


DISSENTER-932

by Cinnamon_satyr, Zepumpkineater



Category: Madness Combat (Web Series), Madness: Project Nexus (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25251553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamon_satyr/pseuds/Cinnamon_satyr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zepumpkineater/pseuds/Zepumpkineater
Summary: A year after the death of Director Phobos, the Nexus Core remains scrambling to recover. The City is falling apart. An Agent lies awake at night, wondering if he truly believes in the Nexus cause. He questions if he’s willing to sacrifice everything he has for the greater good, or continue his loyalty to Nexus.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	1. - Agent-932

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've posted a collaboration project! I'm really excited to finally get this out there to the world. Multi chapter things normally aren't my thing, but I think this has helped me improve as a writer as well as the people working with me on it. We will try to post more chapters as we make them. Big thanks to them for their help and I really hope you enjoy!
> 
> P.S: Please note that this is still being worked on and everything is subject to change, even the title of the story! Remember that feedback is greatly appreciated and we would love to hear your guys' thoughts!
> 
> Cover art: https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/715096122426785843/729802862359740596/Ronan_Cover.png?width=451&height=677  
> Credits: https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/265498325581561876/732385054164254800/unknown.png?width=398&height=677

#  **Prologue:**

_ Clack, clack, clack, clack _ ....

The sounds of a man's boots echoed up the empty stairwell. Bullet holes and red smears still peppered the walls. The signs of the struggle that had taken place just hours ago. Nexus was still in shock, summoning everyone who mattered to the scene.

He finally reached the door just before his stop. He paused and hauled in a slow breath. He patted himself down.

Guns? Check.   
Ammo? Check.

Knife? Check.

Not many things were able to phase this Soldat. Definitely not to this amount. If what he hadn't been told was true, though... well. He straightened his beret, cleared his throat, and pressed the button.

Most of the Science Tower was pitch dark, except for a large square flooded with soft light. It filtered in through the massive window, stopped short only by three figures silhouetted by the sunset outside. They turned to watch him as he approached. Perhaps if he were a less experienced man, he would've wavered in their cold stares. Instead, he drew himself up to full height and nodded to them. Shards of glass glittered scarlet past him. None of them spoke, but a murmur still lingered in the air. He surveyed the room.

There was even more blood in here. There were obvious streaks of where things had been dragged through them. The sun's rays gleamed in the fresher splashes. Bodies of Nexus troops still laid cold and limp on the floor beneath sheets. Definitely too small to be Him. Chunks of flesh accompanied them, as well as bits of bandages. Some of the edges were still smoldering.

The Soldat was more ashamed at how many had been felled than anything else. How the hell was he related to such a pathetic performance?

A voice suddenly cut through the uneasy hum in their ears. "Now that everyone is here, I'd like to thank you all for coming on such short notice."

The small group looked up towards the source. The Soldat immediately picked out the vague form of a man gliding across the unlit floor. He didn’t have to question who this was as he stopped just short of the light. His “boss”, so to speak. Not as high as The Director, but up there.

“I’m sure you know how urgent this is,” he continued, “so I won’t beat around the bush. Anything you may have gathered of The Director’s death is true.”

There it was. That’s what he hadn’t been told. The Soldat chanced a glimpse at his comrades. He could see a few traces of shock resting in the dim redness. He took care to keep his features flat as he fixed his view on the man now skirting along the edge of the shadows.

The door hissed behind the group. A pair of janitors stopped in their tracks and shrunk back as the Soldat looked them over. Good.

“Come. They have work to do.” 

The soldat’s fingers brushed against his holster as he led the way after the beckoning hand. 

The group followed in silence through a smaller section of the Tower until their boss gestured to a door, which they filed inside of. A dark room awaited them, only illuminated by sparking light from above. So dim it may as well have been off. It buzzed warily at them while they found seats around the long conference table.

"Let's skip the fluff, lady and gents." The leader had made his way over to the far side of the wall, where he drew up the blinds covering a window. The sun had set even further in the time of their walk. It didn’t do much but soak the room in maroon.

“Phobos is dead. We have zombified patients and failed experiments to finish recovering. We have no idea where Christoff is. Increased reports of criminal activity in the city are still coming in.” The man strode from one end of the wall to the other, then back.

“It doesn’t help that our numbers are down,” he grumbled. “It would seem Christoff’s stunt didn’t just result in our troops dying. A decent amount of them have found this to be a good time to… reconsider their position here.”

“So, do you have a plan?” came a sharp interjection. The Soldat stared at the man across from him. His arms were folded across his chest, his body visibly tense even in the dark.

“Kinda sounds like those deserters have you shittin’ your pants,” chortled another voice. His gaze didn’t have to travel far to land on the smirk faintly illuminated by the cigarette it held.

“Oh, you wanna talk about people shitting themselves?” growled the woman by the Soldat, who was now rubbing at his temple. “If my memory’s right,  _ you’re _ the one who wanted to surrender when--”

“Enough!” bellowed the man before the window. It certainly didn’t help the throbbing in the Soldat’s head, but he had to fight the urge to smile just a bit as his comrades wilted in their seats.

“Enough,” he repeated softly. He continued pacing along the wall, his shadow clawing its way through the crimson-stained air. He paused with his back to the group. A heavy sigh left him.

“I know things have been rough. We’ve had more than our fair share of troubles up til now. Issues we hoped The Director could voice more on. Things aren’t about to get easier.”

He reached inside of his suit jacket, producing a folder as he turned around. “You aren’t here because you needed things to be easy, though, are you?”

The folder was laid in the center of the table, under the unsteady light. The Soldat hadn’t noticed that he had begun to lean forward, his breath baited.

“ _ Project: Enforcer _ will be our renewal.”

* * *

Ronan blinked awake. It felt slow, the way his brain processed the familiar sight of blank gray. He knew it was just the wall of his quarters. It was the same wall he always fell asleep by and woke up to. Sometimes he'd wait to see if the shadows cast on the wall by the goddamn fluorescent lights would take shape (no luck today) while the rest of his body caught up with his head, and the dull pain in his neck became too much to ignore. Garbage pillows had a tendency to cause that. Even so, he'd die to stay in that uncomfortable bunk all day.

...Actually, he'd probably be pushed to death if he didn't get up. Like a true hero determined not to be put on janitorial duty, he slumped to his feet.

He wouldn't deny that the uniform he dragged over himself did make him feel quite snazzy. The crisp black suit with its red trim always seemed to help pull him together. The red tie was yet another tasteful touch, and as he tightened it around his neck, his back found itself in the diligent pose it had been trained to hold. He almost looked like a proper Nexus Agent now. Almost.

He tilted his nametag just a bit so that it wasn't a degree out of perfection. Not that his superiors would have any issue finding even the slightest fold out of place on AG-932. If that's what they decided to call him that day, at least. Less formal and less kind words were about as interchangeable when it came to simple Agents. Below his tag, his suit jacket bore the searing red logo branding Ronan as Nexus Core. It was Nexus Corp, once upon a time, in a Nevada not so far away. Nexus City used to be Las Vegas before everything went to the dogs. 

Well. It went to a lot of things. There were a lot of creeps, both left over and from now. Some were so trigger happy that they'd attack anything that dared breathe in their direction. In a way, some parts of Nexus City weren't so different from Vegas, but nothing could ever really give it the same style.

Style. Speaking of, Ronan's fingers traced the frames of the final piece of his uniform: a standard issue pair of shades. It used to be odd, seeing everything drenched in red, but at this point, it wasn't unwelcome. At least it wasn't fucking gray. There were definitely worse fates in Nevada than having a tint in your vision. 

He savored the final stretch that he graced his back with, straightened his uniform once more, and stood before the door. It slid open, and he waded out into the hallway.

“Ronan!” 

A familiar voice jolted him out of autopilot.

“Ah, Eddie,” he replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes under his shades. 

Eddie was Ronan’s only friend in the Nexus Core; they knew each other before they decided to join together. Ronan guessed it was simply luck they happened to get the same unit. Eddie was almost immediately trained to be an Engineer upon joining, due to his intellect and his know-how of just about any electronic device known to man. The ones he was allowed to know about, anyway.

Eddie’s most notable feature was his occasionally overbearing enthusiasm. Ronan would go as far as to say that Eddie loved the Nexus more than his mother, and he wished he could say he might be exaggerating. 

Contrary to Ronan, he was wide-awake and chipper. He somehow seemed to always be full of energy, which never failed to bewilder Ronan. Maybe it was a secret Engineer tip.

“Good morning. Ready for another day of Nexus fun, I imagine,” Ronan said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“As always!” Eddie replied, adjusting his mask. Ronan wasn’t sure if he’d ignored the sarcasm or simply not caught it. “So, why don’t we go get breakfast?”

“Yeah, let me just see how much money I have left.” Ronan dug around in his pockets. He pulled out a few crumpled dollar bills.   
  
“Enough to buy a hotdog, I guess.” He grumbled to himself.

Ronan and Eddie made their way to the cafeteria. Scanning the room, it looked as it did every day. Various Nexus troops were getting their food; some sat and ate in silence while others made idle small talk. Sometimes Ronan felt like he and Eddie were the only ones who could consider each other friends. Everyone in this base seemed opposed to being social. Trying to have a conversation was met with uncomfortable stares and awkward silence. It looked that this was exactly what the Nexus wanted, arguing that personal attachments made you weak. Ronan also guessed it was some further twisted version of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell.’ 

As such, Eddie and Ronan held their tongues as they grabbed their food. They shuffled over to their table in silence, until they felt comfortable talking, albeit in hushed tones to not draw attention from the low buzz of meaningless talk amongst comrades.

Eddie raised an eyebrow at Ronan as he scoffed down at his tray.

“A hotdog. For breakfast.”

A yawn overtook Ronan before he could rebuke. He rested his chin in his palm, trying to fish out the quip he’d been formulating from his brain fog. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to close his eyes for just a bit longer. The sweet thought was put to rest as he was shaken. He dragged his eyes back open for them to land on gloved fingers retreating from his shoulder. Eddie’s mask examined him in his peripheral. He said something that didn’t quite make it through his muddled drowse.

“Hm?”

“ _ I said _ .” Exasperation was laced into every syllable. “You look exhausted.”

Ronan shrugged. “Just one of those mornings.” He lifted his chin from its perch and gave his hotdog a disinterested poke. Eddie’s visor stayed locked on him, and he could tell he wasn’t exactly impressed by his act. He couldn’t really blame him.

“Ronan.” His voice was clipped and low. It almost sounded accusatory.

“Come on, everyone has a little trouble sleeping now and then. No need to put me on trial.”

“Now and then doesn’t mean daily. Would it kill you to put in a little extra effort for what Nexus Core does?”

Ronan sighed and resigned himself to his dog. No use running on an empty tank. He was about halfway through the cheap processed meat tube before either of them spoke again, when Eddie shuffled just a bit closer to him in his seat. 

“What’s been keeping you up?” His words were barely above a murmur.

Ronan glanced around for any watchful eyes amongst them. No doubt that Eddie had done the same, but it was never really a good idea to drop your guard around anything involved with Nexus.

“Just… thinking.”

“About...?”

The question made Ronan's heart stop in its tracks. It crawled up toward his throat as he mulled it over. This shouldn't have been a hard decision, but it was, and it was out of their control. Being honest with his best friend... frankly, it would risk a lot of things. Their friendship. Their place in Nexus. Their lives, maybe. Ronan didn't have any hard proof about the last part, but the parallels he could draw between past regimes to Nexus didn't help eliminate the possibility. If Eddie weren't a part of Nexus Core, Ronan would probably be doing his damnedest to avoid it. While he was here, though, he needed to play the part of a good soldier. Even if he wanted to take a hand against Nexus, he wouldn't be able to do anything. And maybe... maybe he did.

Out of spite, he’d learned how to look between the cracks of all the daily propaganda. The farther he looked, the more he feared that his suspicions would be confirmed. As uneasy as he felt about the Nexus, the confirmation of his theories was somehow more frightening to him. If he was right, his purpose in life would be shattered. Amongst other things.

“Those riots that have been happening lately,” he muttered. “Been keeping me up at night, I guess.” It wasn’t like it was a complete lie.

Eddie’s chest puffed up. “They’re nothing to worry about. The Dissenters are just a bunch of lowlives scrabbling to cause trouble. They’ll be crushed sooner or later.”

Ronan swallowed the last bite of his hotdog. “Is that what we’re calling them? The Dissenters?”

“You have a better name, I take it,” Eddie replied.

“Fair point.”

The Dissenters were only known by whatever nickname Nexus coined. Before, they were just a rumor, but more and more had started to spring up. Now, full blown riots were taking place. Some even suggested that a few of their ranks used to be Nexus Core, but speaking of such things was considered quite taboo in Ronan’s unit. Probably in every unit, for that matter. They weren’t considered a threat at all until recently when Nexus troops started dying at their hand. According to the whispers, they were armed, dangerous, and anything but hesitant.

Ronan hadn’t seen any members himself, but he had seen their graffiti and insignia. The Nexus Core logo, split in twain down the middle by a sword. A reminder of what they stood for. Sometimes the graffiti spray-painted on ruined concrete walls helped occupy Ronan’s mind at night. Then he’d wonder how it would look on the wall he woke up to.

Eddie spared the smallest of bumps with his arm against Ronan’s as he shifted back. It was the best they could do in the current atmosphere. Even a pat on the shoulder might’ve earned them some odd looks.

Ronan reached for his empty tray as well as Eddie’s, but stopped when he glanced down. Eddie hadn’t touched jack or shit on his tray. Odd.

“You not gonna eat?”

Eddie plucked the tray back from him. “Of course I am. I was just busy talking to you.” He picked at his eggs with his fork as he removed his mask.

“Should I get you a hotdog too next time?”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Really! They’re not bad.”

“They’re not breakfast.”

“Only if you don’t let them be.”

He shook his head and finally took a bite of his food. Ronan swiped his eyes with his knuckles, mercifully less tired than before. He casually scanned the cafeteria, looking through the sea of Nexus troops. Agents took up most of the seats, largely separate from the Engineers.

Even sparser and more set apart were the Soldats with the watchful symbols of their rank. Those eyepieces. They could set almost any member of Nexus straight with just a glance. They peered through the ranks brimming with clones.

Ugh. The clones. They made Ronan feel… anxious. No, no, that wasn’t the right word. He wasn’t afraid of them. Tense? That was a little closer to the mark. Everywhere he turned, he saw the same exact face. It was like a uniform but for their actual bodies. Seeing the same man in the dozens used to tie Ronan’s stomach into knots. He’d gotten used to it in the same way he had become accustomed to tuning out the constant flow of doctrine from his superiors. That was to say, it still made him restless.

Movement caught Ronan’s eye, Someone was hauling ass towards his table as much as he could without looking stupid. Please, by whatever higher powers existed, don’t let that be who he thought it was. He knew who it was from the moment he saw the eyepiece staring him down, but his heart still sank as the figure drew nearer. Hardass Hektor himself.

“Fuck,” he hissed. He bowed his head and nudged Eddie’s leg with his knee. Couldn’t just let him be off his guard if this asshole was coming for him. Eddie looked up, then shoveled as much food as he could into his mouth before slamming his mask back into place.

The idle chatter around them died down for the sound of sturdy boots against the hard floor. They stopped just behind Ronan.

“Engineer 4413,” came the brisk demand. Eddie immediately snapped to attention. “You’re needed in sector 1-3. Get hustlin’.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Eddie was halfway down the aisle when Hektor called his designation once again. Ronan flinched back from the hand that hovered by the abandoned tray.

“Forgetting something?” Ronan could sense the sneer behind the Soldat’s mask. Eddie began to march back, though cautiously. He kept his eyes straight, but Ronan knew they were on the watch for anything their superior might pull. Today wouldn’t have been the first time Hektor had taught a lesson on tidiness. Usually such “lessons” would involve the offender’s uniform becoming caked in whatever they had left behind. Shit. Ronan grabbed his tray.

Then he stood, yanking the other out from Hektor’s hand.

“It’s okay, Ed--” Nicknames weren’t a thing. Names weren’t a thing. Numbers were. “E-Edgineer… 4413. I can get it.”

Eddie froze for just a second. He clasped his hands together and nodded. “Thank you, Agent!” His words were purposely soaked in a saccharine tone. Sweet Jesus. He was going to kill Ronan.

Assuming that Hektor didn’t get to first. Ronan grinned toward the Engineer he was simply doing a favor for, then prayed that the grin would stay as he turned to the Soldat. He had some kind of knack that allowed himself to look bigger. He bristled, towering over Ronan. The red glass drilled through his shades. It picked at every detail in his eyes, as if they would tell Hektor what game he was playing at. Ronan made it a point to not let his chin drop, but god was it hard with the pressure boring into his head from the Soldat. 

Apparently, the inspection didn’t yield anything special. The Soldat stepped back, and Ronan allowed a slow sigh of relief to escape. Hektor’s scarred hand clapped against his back, knocking the wind out of his chest before he could finish. His torso heaved forward. His jacket just barely avoided Eddie’s crumbs.

“Thank you for volunteering for cleaning duty, 932. That’s part of why I like you,” he chided. “So helpful.”

Motherfucker.

“Oh, but -- but, sir,” Ronan found his throat to be quite dry. “I-I thought I was… due for the training grounds. Today. Sir.” He was shoved beside Eddie.

“That’s fine. I can make exceptions.”

Ronan glanced toward Eddie. He turned away in silence, but broke it as they shuffled along.

“Sorry,” he breathed.

“It’s fine.” He tried to flash Eddie an inconspicuous smile. “It won’t kill me.”

“Still. Catch you later?”

Ronan’s response caught in his throat when he heard another set of footsteps behind them. These were heavy and clacked at their heels. That was that, then, as declared by Hektor.

Eventually, Eddie’s turn came up, and he disappeared from the edge of Ronan’s vision. 

A familiar hand settled on his shoulder. “I take it you know where the supplies are.”

Ronan was suddenly very tired again.


	2. - Raid

Four. Four days in a row that Ronan had been condemned to cleaning. At the very least, he didn’t have to hustle as much in the morning.

That was the biggest condolence he could come up with as he plunged his mop into the bucket beside him. He let go of it to wipe his sweaty hands against his pant legs. Thank god he hadn’t been assigned to the restrooms, but the cafeteria was still a large order.

“Break time, lads.”

He looked over to the Engineer supervising the group. His palm was in the air, fingers extended. Five minutes. Ronan didn’t hesitate to plunk into the nearest seat, and neither did the four other Agents. He hazarded to loosen his tie just a little bit and bowed into his knees. This wasn’t his biggest winning streak. It didn’t help that Eddie hadn’t been around for the past couple days, cooped up with whatever Nexus had him working on.

Ronan had barely even said a word without him around. He knew better than to try talking to the Agents stuck cleaning with him. Damn, was he itching for conversation, though. He missed how often he could have them before everything went to hell.  Everyone needed to socialize to an extent, but Ronan was  _ dying _ without it. That was probably the part of the Nexus that killed him the most, but hey, it kept him from being killed on the streets, right?

He briefly scanned around, above the rims of his shades. The other Agents sat in silence, seemingly staring at nothing. If he didn’t know any better, Ronan would have thought they were dummies. They unnerved him with their blank expressions. God, did he make the same face? Maybe it was best to just enjoy his break while it lasted. 

All he could dream about was finally getting back to his bunk, his safe haven. Where he could relax all his muscles, and let a day’s worth of intensity wash away in what little comfort the bunk provided.

“Time’s up!” 

The demanding voice dragged Ronan out of his daydream before he even had a chance to begin imagining it. He reluctantly stood with a pop of his back. He whispered a curse at the brief jolt of pain, and then shuffled back over to his bucket of murky water. He grabbed the worn handle of the mop and started back to work.

A part of him had been itching to whistle a tune for hours now. That was one of the phrases back then. Whistle while you work. It was a little before his time; he only knew it from the history book he kept hidden. 

Alas, all he could do was entertain the thought. The soul-piercing stares wouldn’t be worth the small respite.

Eventually, Ronan’s mind blanked, slipping further and further into the monotonous labor. He had found himself settling in this state more often. He didn’t like it, but was he really to blame? His brain was working overtime to not lose itself. 

He had no idea how long it had been when the Engineer shouted that the shift had ended, snapping him out of his daze.  Thank fuck.

He glanced up at the clock. Only about an hour and a half left til dinner. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could sneak his book out and whittle the time away in his bunk. He mused about his chances while putting away his supplies. He couldn’t have been happier to see the dirty water slosh down the drain. Now all he had to do was keep his head down and he was free. 

Once everything had been properly put away, Ronan washed his sweat caked hands in the (frankly disgusting) sink. He stepped through the automatic door and back out into the cafeteria. He took care as he stepped around; some parts of the floor were still slick.

“Oi!” 

A voice made Ronan stop dead in his tracks, his shoes making a light squeak against the ground.

“Where you think you’re going, mate?” An Engineer with a strangely thick accent demanded.

“M-My shift just ended. The other guys should be here. I was gonna hit the showers.” Ronan wasn’t entirely sure why he was so nervous around higher ups. Making eye contact with them had always just felt wrong to him. He always felt like he was being dissected. Especially from behind the masks and eyepieces.   
  
“Oh, yer right, lad. My bad, carry on.” The Engineer pulled out some sort of datapad, jabbing at it as he walked away.

Ronan breathed a hefty sigh of release and quickened his pace to his bunk. He made his way past several other Agents and Scouts. He made note to keep his distance. He had once accidentally bumped into one of the latter, and it almost ended with his face being met with her fist. 

As he made his way down the hall, he saw a familiar face -- or mask, rather -- making its way down the steel corridor. A subtle smile grew on his face as the figure drew closer. There was nothing particularly special in the way that Eddie looked, but the small spring in his step was all Ronan needed.

They couldn’t risk stopping and talking in the hall, as much as he wished they could. The only thing they could do was leave each other with a nod as they passed. Ronan continued along, finally arriving at his quarters. He slipped inside and surveyed the room. Empty, just as he’d hoped. He eagerly crouched down at his bunk. He slipped his hand beneath the mattress.

Ronan paused and closed his eyes. He stayed like that for a few seconds, straining his ears so hard that they began to rumble. No footsteps. Perfect. He pulled the cold thing out.

_ Atlas.  _ Part of a series of books that held a comprehensive history of the world, all the way up until however long ago this had begun. Everything from global conflict to music and arts was in these. It was large, just like its brethren, but Ronan always found places that were just the right size. He’d scour for them if he had to. He didn’t plan on losing his firmest link to the past anytime soon.

He fondly palmed the wrinkled paper cover. He hadn’t had a chance to have a read in far too long. He could already quote far too much of this installment word-for-word. Still, it was the only one he had, and he didn’t have the time to get sick of it. Guess that was another one of Nexus’ silver linings. He let the pages sprawl open across his lap. 

Ronan grinned. A section on everyday life. His favorite. He wondered how many times he’d driven Eddie up the wall just talking about it. There was always a new cranny to dig into. Another land, another people, another subculture, another timeframe. He couldn’t really do the digging nowadays without his full arsenal, but still. He had this piece.

He flipped along the pages, through a section he wasn’t entirely fond of. A great war, one even greater than that “Great War”. The shortsighted name still made Ronan want to chuckle on the inside. Despite the irony, it was no laughing matter. Many people died. Atrocities were committed. And they were done again and again.

He tried to shake those parts off. He knew they happened, but he didn’t like it. Wars flipped the lives of people upside down. It was a bit of a painful reminder for him; he missed life before this mess.

A siren suddenly ripped Ronan from the pages. Of course, on the one day he had time to himself. Why did Nexus have to schedule these fucking things at the worst times? He reluctantly slid his book beneath his pillow while the sound clawed at his ears. Had to follow the drill. He froze and his blood ran cold at a new sound. A loud, clear, quick bang.

That was a gunshot. The drills did not include gunshots. Another cut through the wailing alarms, then three more. Oh, shit. This... this was real.

“Okay,” Ronan murmured to himself. His voice trembled in the air. His hands shook the same as he reached for his holster. “Okay... done this dozens of times. Okay.”

A scream curdled what little assurance hadn’t drained from him before. Oh, God, he’d never done this. He’d been run through a scenario where the only risks were having the piss taken out of him by his superiors.

Another gunshot, another scream. The fear gripped him somewhere deep in his stomach. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind. If he opened that door, what would there be waiting for him? Zeds? Bandits? Every fiber of his being begged to stay in this room. It was like slow motion when he forced his legs forward.   
  


He heard the door click from outside. His arms whipped up in front of him. His Deagle trembled in his hands. His heart pounded against his ribcage like it was trying to burst through the bone. Something crumpled into the room as the door slid open, and Ronan choked on the urge to shout.

The first thing he noticed was the blood. Then the rise and fall of the breathing. Alive. Fuck. No, no no. Ronan was going to die. He couldn’t move, and he was going to die. 

He couldn’t feel his body shaking anymore, but the hands in front of him continued to. Were those his? Something in him wanted to scream when he saw the thing move.

The figure turned its face toward him. The features were scrambled in Ronan’s absent mind. He might’ve been Nexus, for all he was registering. The arms before him kept the gun aimed to his head. He clung to what little sensation he could still feel.

Ronan tore a sound from his throat. He wasn’t sure what he said. He was already exhausted from making it. 

He did his best to concentrate on the figure. He’d raised his hands above his head. His back was slumped against the wall. His eyes were brimming with pain. Ronan’s stomach clenched when he saw them. Had to look away. 

He forced his eyes down, and two gunshot wounds stared back at him. Blood dripped down his chest. His gut writhed as he looked on.

“Please,” the man rasped. Something about it jarred Ronan. This was a man pleading for his life. Fuck. Why him?

“Who…” Ronan choked out. Any other words he tried to make died on his tongue.

The man was sent into a fit of hacking, leaving his body to quakes. He looked like he was struggling to keep his hands up.

“Unarmed,” he spat. He looked up at him. There was an expression etched into his face Ronan couldn’t decipher. “Didn’t mean for…”

He tested his fingertips, fidgeting with his grasp. They felt disconnected. Numb. God, why couldn’t he aim away?

He continued around ragged breaths as his arms collapsed. “We didn’t mean for this to happen. I…. Please, listen to me. The Nexus has... done things.”

“Like what?” croaked Ronan.

A hiss made him jump before the man had a chance to say anything else. Ronan’s head whipped around. It took him a moment to process the familiar figure in the doorway.

“Agent!” Hektor snapped. “Finish that scum and get going!”

Ronan looked back to the man bleeding out across from his bunk. He could finally read his face. It was terror. His wide eyes plead with Ronan. They were begging for help. He looked like a caged animal. Ronan’s head spun.

An all-too familiar sound echoed in his ears. Combat boots stomping towards him. He barely felt being jerked aside by his collar. Hektor’s grimace was clear as day, but something wasn’t clicking in his brain.

“What’s the holdup, Agent?” he growled. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Ronan tried to say something. Anything. It was all becoming muddier by the second. Something cold and round pressed against his temple.

“I  _ will _ take refusal here as a sign.”

No, no, no. How had it gotten worse? All he could hear now was a distant racing heartbeat. Rapid, dull thumps. They drowned what may have been another bark from Hektor. He felt a jab against his skull, and sheer panic flooded his body. He squeezed his eyes shut and a shot rang in his ears.

He was sure he’d died. For a moment, his head was blank. A bliss of nothingness. But then he realized his eyes were open. And they were gazing right at a fresh bullet hole. Hadn’t there been an eye there a second earlier? The heartbeat came rushing back to him with realization.

This couldn’t be real. No. This was a… a delusion. It didn’t feel real. Couldn’t be. It was some fucked trick. Those hands in front of him couldn’t be his. He gulped in air, and it rattled in his lungs.

He silently screamed in horror as the hands pulled the trigger. Then again. And again. They kept going until the gun was empty. There was a man begging for his life there just a minute ago.

The next moments of Ronan’s life were more sensation than sight. The feeling of hard, calloused hands pushing him along, skin meeting cold steel, a kind voice, the pain in his stomach, and the sound of something wet hitting the ground.

It was all just a mushy blur. It was like his head was a balloon drifting behind his body. He knew Eddie was guiding him by the elbow through the hallways. He knew he was still trying to say things to him. It was just that nothing was sinking in.

For all he was certain, he was still looking at the disgusting splatter on the wall. Deep red on gray. And that gray upon more gray. Like the indistinct gray shapes that swam past his peripheral.

The next time Ronan blinked, he found himself lying down. His knuckles brushed against a crisp sheet as he flexed his fingers. He squinted around. Everything had finally stopped being foggy, thankfully. Instead, now, it was dark.

Maybe he was in his bunk. He snapped his head up to look where the blood would be. Nothing. Oh, sweet relief. None of that had happened. That’s why it hadn’t felt real. He laid back down, pulling the sheet over his shoulder as he turned on his side. What a weird… uh…. 

Why was there an arm in his bed? Ronan's hand shot under his pillow, scrabbling around for his book. He remembered all too late that it wouldn't be there. That had all been a dream, after all.

The arm pulled back with a gentle rustle. A head that had been nestled in its elbow rose.

“Ro…?” came the mumble. Thank god this wasn’t a stranger hunched halfway over his bunk.

“What are you doing in here, Eddie?”

"Sorry." Eddie shook his head as he stretched up. “Must've fell asleep after I dragged you here. You were really out of it, y'know. Wouldn't say a thing.”

Ronan did a double-take. "Huh?"

"Well, after the raid, I tried to find you to check up. See if you were alright and all."

"The what?!" he yelped. Eddie jolted, shushing him. He wildly gestured as he glanced around in the darkness.

"Do you not remember?" he whispered.

Ronan remembered. Too vividly. In particular, he recalled a strong wave of disgust gripping his guts. He lurched forward.

"Ope!" Eddie produced a small trash bin at the side of the cot. "No, no! I gotcha."

Ronan groped at the can with quivering hands. The vision wouldn't leave his eyes no matter how tight he shut them. He retched and the taste of bile stung in his throat.

Small circles were gingerly rubbed into his back. They did little to help. A nurse stood patiently at the foot of the cot when Ronan recovered from his fit. He was in the med-bay, then.

"Is he with us this time?" he asked.

"I think so." 

Eddie cautiously held the can in place, but moved his chair back. The nurse closed the space, slipping a cup into Ronan's hands.

"Water. Drink up. I'll be back in a bit."

He walked beyond the gray partition as Ronan took a sip. The water took some of the vile flavor left on his tongue down with it.

"What the hell  _ happened _ ?" whispered Eddie. His eyes were wide. Ronan saw a familiar glint of fear in them.

"I killed him." He gagged. He'd admitted to it. The fact had settled somewhere in the pit of his stomach ever since he pulled the trigger, but this was something else. It wasn't so much a vague idea anymore. He knew what he did.

“He was defenseless, and I…”

His vision clouded. No, he was not about to cry. He shut his eyelids against the prickling welling up behind them. It was probably just from the upchucking, anyway.

“It... “ Eddie sighed. “It’s for the better.” 

Ronan resigned himself to finishing his water quietly. He wished it was silence, because there was one very distinct buzz in the back of his brain. Its demand to be released grew into a scream while the nurse  asked him questions he didn’t care about.

“Alright then.” The nurse’s inquiry had finally come to an end. He pulled out a slip of paper and a pen, scribbling something down on it. “This is your prescription. Should help with the nausea, take them and you’ll be fine. Get some rest, drink some water, no solid foods until you’re positive the nausea has passed.” He set the slip down on the bedside table, as well as a small box of pills. 

“You’re free to go.” He concluded, walking off further into the infirmary. Ronan thought he saw him throwing an odd look at the pair over his shoulder.

“Let’s get you back to bed, okay?” A firm but gentle hand found its way to his back.

Ronan nodded in agreement and eased his way out of the cot. The hand remained on his shoulder, as if Eddie was afraid he’d collapse again.

“You gonna be alright, man?” Eddie asked once they left the infirmary. Ronan wasn’t sure how to answer the question. He wasn’t okay, but he didn’t want Eddie to worry.

“I’ll be fine.” He mumbled.

“You sure?” There was more than just a hint of worry in his voice.

“Yeah.”

They continued down the hall. All Ronan could focus on was a question swimming around in his mind. As they got closer to the quarters, it continued to fester. It thrashed on his tongue, trying it best to escape his lips.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” he finally blurted.

He saw Eddie’s mask turn away in his peripheral. His silence tied Ronan’s stomach into knots.

“I’ve done what I’ve had to.”

He recognized the tone in his voice. Eddie was done talking about this. He stayed by his side, but the only sound between them was their footsteps.

They paused at a turn branching into separate corridors. Ronan knew where an exit was through one of these. He’d entertained the thought of doing this before, but it had been just that, then. A thought. Now…? 

Something panged in his chest when his friend patted his back.

He had to get the fuck out of here. He knew there was no way he could tell Eddie.

“See you tomorrow.”

Ronan’s tongue tripped over itself as he tried to respond. Eddie was already rounding a corner by the time he coaxed the words out. 

“Bye, Ed.”


	3. 2.5. - Hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is actually Chapter 2.5, not chapter 3, that will come next. Ao3 doesn't allow for custom chapter numbers so we have to abide by that. This was initially going to be a shorter chapter but hey, 15 pages later and...Hope you enjoy!

For the second time in an hour, Eddie found himself making his way between his quarters and the medical bay. He was rushing now, freshly jolted awake. He had barely gotten the opportunity to unbutton his shirt when he was summoned.

“Needed urgently,” the Agent had told him. Nothing more. God, maybe he should’ve stayed with Ronan just a while longer. Eddie didn’t remember his first time being this rough. 

He felt the slickness under his shoe all too late as he sped through a doorway and his mask smacked against the floor. Fantastic. He pushed himself up with a splat sounding from beneath his hand.

_ Splat _ ? Concrete didn’t splat. 

He raised his palm. At first, he thought he’d managed to cut himself, because there was blood rolling down into his sleeve. That wouldn’t explain the noise, though. He looked down at the floor. That was definitely someone else’s. Wow, fuck, there was a lot. Was it Ronan’s? His pulse spiked. There was no way that blood was from the raid earlier. Not that much, not just left there.

Eddie scrambled back up to his feet. He skidded a bit as he hustled toward the bay.  He stopped at the front desk of the infirmary, slightly winded from his sprint.

“Y-Yes, uh...I’ve been called here, It’s, uhm, urgent--” he said between breaths.

The secretary at the desk leaned out from his computer screen to get a look at Eddie. “Engineer-4413? Yep, that’s you. Intensive Care. Just at the end of the hall on the right. Better make it quick.” 

“Thank you!” Eddie called over his shoulder as he jogged down the hall. 

He bursted into the room to be greeted by a mass of doctors’ and nurses’ backs. Oh, god, what had Ronan done? There were so many… no less than six. Eddie wasn’t exactly short, but he still had to stand on his toes to see above the heads. No luck.   
  
A nurse nudged past Eddie through the door. Confusion washed over him as he shuffled over to replace him. This was not Ronan. Instead, he’d locked eyes with the red glint that struck fear into even the more hardened Nexus troops.

“Ah, Engineer,” Hektor finally said. Eddie was alarmed to hear his voice so strained. He might have even called it weak. Only maybe, though, because he would die before thinking of him as anything less than the respectable commander he was.

Hektor shot a cold stare at the doctors in front of Eddie, and they backed away. So did he, when he finally got a view of the Soldat.

His skin was pale. Fresh blood was smattered against his chin and his neck. Eddie’s jaw slacked behind his mask as he followed the vein of red down to his shoulder. If you could call it that anymore. Nothing but bandages drowned in crimson. Eddie pointed at it, fumbling for his words.   
  


“Sir, are you--?”

“Stand down,” Hektor grumbled. “My condition is the least of your worries.”

“B-But, Sir--”

Hektor cut him off once again with a wave of the hand he still had. “Leave. I need a word with him.”

The doctors and nurses cleared out, muttering amongst themselves. Part of Eddie wanted to go with them. He trusted Hektor, but being alone with him was unsettling. He somehow emanated a sense of tension at all times, and it wasn’t hard to be pinpointed by it.

Hektor must not have had the energy to produce it right now. As soon as the door closed, he sunk against the flimsy pillow propped against his back. His chin was tilted back, gaze fixed to the ceiling. He was still, apart from the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Just as Eddie began to wonder if he’d passed out, he spoke.

“I have a job for you. One of utmost importance.”

He sat up, though it looked like it took some effort. “I need you to tell me something, 4413.” His eyepiece was focused on him. Eddie found that he had no problems looking right back into it.   
  


“Your loyalty to me, to Nexus... it is undying, correct? You will follow every order given without question or hesitation?”   
  
Eddie stood at attention. “Of course, sir! You can always count on me!” 

Hektor reached out a bit. “Come closer.”

Eddie slowly made his way to Hektor’s side. He was shocked to feel how gentle the hand Hektor laid on his shoulder was. 

“Everything I am about to tell you is classified. Nothing said here leaves this room.”

Hektor was satisfied with the nod Eddie gave to show he understood.

“I am ordering a search party for the man who did this to me. You are to be at the head of it. He is a traitor, a Dissenter.”

“I’ll organize a team as soon as possible, Sir.” A warmth swelled in his chest. A mix of pride and a hunger for vengeance.

“Good,” Hektor said. He gave a weak squeeze to Eddie’s shoulder. “Agent-932 must be dealt with.”

Eddie stiffened as his bubble popped.  _ What _ ? It took a few tries to wrap his head around the words.   
“I-I… I don’t believe 932 would... do something like that.”

“And what gives you that idea?”

Uh-oh. He could feel that familiar sensation of the Soldat’s Eye peering into him. Eddie felt the sweat beginning to form on his forehead.  _ Uh-oh _ .

“It’s just a feeling I got from him. I don’t know him personally.”

Hektor nodded slowly. He looked away, but Eddie could still feel his vision on him. He prayed that the swallow he made was quieter than it had been in his head. He yelped as a white-hot pain shot through his shoulder. His knees buckled while Hektor continued to dig his fingers deeper into the nerves by his collarbone. Eddie felt something pop.

“Of all people,” Hektor snarled, “you should know I don’t like being lied to. How many times have you seen what happens, hm?”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” he managed. He clawed at Hektor’s wrist in an attempt to pry him off. The grip loosened, but not before Hektor had dragged him closer to his scowling face.

“I know you and 932 are close. I’ve seen it since the moment you joined. For almost a year, now. Your talk with “Ronan” when you think no one is watching. You  _ really _ think I wouldn’t have noticed? With how obvious you make it? You must think I’m fucking stupid.”

“No, Sir, n-no, I--”

Hektor launched him backwards. The wind was knocked from Eddie’s lungs as his back slammed into the wall. He clutched at his chest, doubling over from the lack of air. Had Hektor been feigning weakness, or was he just that pissed? Hektor’s glare was waiting for him once he was able to breathe again.

“Get up,” he ordered. “This is a search and destroy mission, and you are crucial to it. You know 932. And now you know that he is a Dissenter.” He gestured toward his injury.    
“So, will you perform your duty?”

Eddie stood frozen, eyes locked with Hektor’s cold stare. It was difficult for him to believe; could Ronan really have done something like this? To Hektor, of all people? It just didn’t seem possible.

“I’m waiting,” Hektor growled.

Eddie pulled himself straight. “Yes, sir.”

Regret crawled up his spine as soon as the words slipped out.

“Excellent. I will contact you the instant I am able.”

Eddie strummed up the spirit for a salute. He winced at the pain in his shoulder. He turned on his heel and slipped out into the hallway.

Ronan. Ronan did  _ that _ ? A few hours ago, Eddie had escorted him here because he was dissociating and vomiting. From just one quick kill. And this was  _ Hektor _ that he’d supposedly bested. It didn’t add up. Not in any single scenario Eddie played out in his head.

The last time he had questioned Hektor’s word like this was when he was much,  _ much _ newer. He shook off the minor realization that he could barely remember that. Irrelevant.  There were more pressing matters.

Eddie was going to have to see this for himself.

Luckily, he knew just where to do that. It was a walk that wouldn’t take more than five minutes. He found himself reaching for a nonexistent toolbox as he stopped at the familiar door. After a quick self-rebriefing that this  _ wasn’t _ a routine repair job, he stepped inside the security office.

“Evening, fellas,” Eddie said. One of the two men inside smiled as he turned away from the dozens of glaring monitors. Twenty-five of them in this office, all of them displaying the view of watchful cameras.

“Saw that tumble ya took,” chuckled the Agent. “How’s the face?”

Eddie tapped his mask. “We’ve got these for a reason, 406.”

406 spun around in his chair. “So, whatcha here for? If yer gonna ask for us to expunge that clip, I gotta warn ya that I already saved it.”

“Actually,” Eddie stepped between them and tilted on the long, paper-strewn desk. “I was hoping for a replay. A bit earlier than my slip.”

The other Agent made a grunt in his throat. He sounded uncertain.

“The footage will help me with a mission I have been assigned to. It’s related to the incident, and I can get some information on the perpetrator if you let me watch.”

“Go ahead,” 406 assured his colleague. Eddie would have to buy him a drink for that one. The other nodded, but hesitation still glinted on his shades.

406 pointed to a clump of screens farthest to the left. Eddie leaned in closer as the rewind flashed before him, no frame staying long enough to be imprinted. He still scoured every pixel for a hint of Ronan. There weren’t many Agents to confuse him for, since this had happened long past curfew.

“Yeah, around there,” muttered Not-406. The screens flickered to a halt, and there was Agent-932. Frozen in the middle of a hall, looking behind himself. Eddie squinted in an effort to get a view of his face.

“Play it.”

The images stuttered a bit as the Ronan on screen crept toward the door at the end. Eddie recognized it as one of the exits and his heart fell. Maybe Ronan really had gone Dissenter….

Ronan glanced back yet again once he reached the door.

_ Don’t do it _ , Eddie urged him.  Ronan’s hand inched closer to the button with no regard for Eddie’s pleas.

_ Don’t _ .

His fingers were just above the raised metal.

_ Stop! _

His hand whipped away in an instant. A piece of Eddie wanted to hope Ronan had somehow heard him. Then he saw the panicked look on his face, and the way he was recoiling. Eddie attempted to read Ronan’s lips, but was unable to make out anything coherent.

After some more talking, what startled Ronan was made clear as Hektor stormed into frame. Ronan pressed himself to the wall like he was trying to pass through the metal. Maybe it would have worked if Hektor hadn’t grabbed him by his collar. There were a few more words exchanged before he was slammed against the concrete wall. 

“It gets real around here,” 406 assured his audience in a whisper. Eddie dug his nails into his palms to keep himself from betraying too much emotion.

The rage on Hektor’s face was palpable through the monitor as he turned around to hurl Ronan across the room. He struck the floor face-first. Eddie winced as he skidded forward.

Ronan struggled to stand up. He collapsed, unable to find his balance. Hektor watched for a moment before stomping toward him. He plunged his heel down. Ronan cried out, rolling onto his back while clutching his stomach. The throbbing in Eddie’s shoulder flared as Hektor snatched Ronan’s arm and hoisted him up from the floor. 

Ronan tugged at his arm fruitlessly while he was dragged off the screen. He shortly reappeared on the adjacent monitor, thrashing, face visible. A nasty scrape trailed blood down his face. He did his best to dig his heels into the ground and swung at Hektor. Eddie’s eyes went wide.

Nothing could’ve prepared Ronan for what Hektor delivered in return.

Eddie’s fingers dug deeper in his own skin with every blow. It was difficult to not cringe, to not stop the feed, to not leave the room, to not feel appalled. But why this? He’d seen Hektor do worse with his own eyes. Why was this different?

“ _ Ooooooooh _ !” yapped 406 at a particularly cruel kick. Eddie shot him a glare, apparently seething enough behind his mask to shut him up.

When Hektor was through, he grabbed Ronan’s jacket, towing the Agent along behind him. Ronan’s arms were free, but all he could do was feel at his battered face and flail weakly. Eddie felt something warm spill beneath his fingernails.

They continued like that through a few more monitors. Just as they were about to exit the hall Eddie had last seen him in, Ronan’s lashing finally hit something besides air. A button. The heavy door hurtled down.

The lack of audio didn’t take much away from the grisliness of the scene. Revulsion surged throughout the office as the door landed on Hektor’s arm. The rounded edge carved halfway through his shoulder like butter before slowing. His face was contorted in an agonized yell on the other screen. He vied for purchase on the underside of the door with his free hand, chest rowing from his heavy breaths

Ronan had fallen without Hektor’s hold. He gaped at the sight. Probably hadn’t even pieced together what had happened yet. He swayed as he tottered to his feet. With the petrified expression he wore, it would have been easy to mistake Ronan for the one trapped by the door. He limped back the way he came.

“Stop the video,” Eddie demanded. “I’ve seen enough.”

To not-406’s credit, he paused the video the exact instant he was told. He looked ill.  _ Of course _ Hektor’s anguished and enraged face had to be one of the frames on display.  _ That _ camera had been situated just to the side of  _ that _ door. Right. Wonderful.

The alternative monitor of interest showed Ronan. Pretty fast for the hobble he had. Blood splattered his disheveled uniform, a mix of his own and Hektor’s.

“Thank you, gentlemen.”

Eddie didn’t get a single second of rest, but it wasn’t for a lack of effort. Even if he hadn’t been on high alert for Hektor’s summons, the thoughts plaguing his mind would’ve kept him up on their own.

They’d been quiet, at first. Distant. Vague notions more than anything. Eddie had tried to ignore them; really, he had. No matter what matters he attempted drowning them with, though, they always floated back up. The only distinct thing he could gather from them was Ronan. Something to do with him. Yeah, okay, but there were a lot of things about Ronan. Which was it?

The thoughts didn’t get any less cagey after he’d asked himself that. Fine. He’d sort through everything until he found what was hiding from him.

He scowled up at the ceiling for hours. He had managed to narrow it down to the security tapes. Unsurprising. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing Ronan like that. It already made him blanch when it was on lower-quality monitors. The blood. The bruises. The fear.

But why?  _ He had seen worse _ .

The early hours of daylight found Eddie in the passenger seat of a Humvee, trundling through the City streets. His lack of sleep stung dully behind his mask. He was no less alert for it. Rather, every detail around him burned in his eyes as he drank them in.

His earpiece heckled at him with a beep, and he looked away from the tinted window. He brought his hand up to the button.

“EG-4413,” he responded dryly. “Update?”

A voice crackled to life in his ear. “SC-3878. Confirmation of suspect. About a mile East out of the city, going twenty by vehicle. Target appears to be an unmarked building.”

Eddie reflected while watching the Scouts’ dots crawl along the GPS. He huffed through his nose before pushing down again.

“Stay on them, but keep your distance. If they go in, hold. Be ready to engage once we catch up. 10-5 SC-2154.”

“Acknowledged.”

He turned to the Agent behind the wheel and gestured to the GPS. She glanced over and nodded.

Eddie ran this thumb along the stock of his Mossberg. He hadn’t really set it down since they’d boarded. Or since he got it; if he had an assignment, it was there with him. Hadn’t failed him yet. It was also a hell of a lot harder to sink his nails into metal.  His weapon couldn’t distract him from the inevitable, though. It actually did quite the opposite. If all went according to plan, Ronan would be in that building, and they would kill him. His shoulder ached at the fact. 

He tried to come up with a reason, some excuse, to take Ronan alive between the engine’s purring. Nothing he came up with would fly; not past Hektor. The cruel, pulsing threat by his collarbone was becoming harder to bear with each failed alibi.

He let the evidence settle. Ronan was dead, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Except get it over with quickly.

Get in, pull the trigger, get out. Ronan was just another Agent. He knew what he’d signed up for when he Dissented. Get in. Pull the trigger. Get out.   
  
“We’re here,” AG-1003 said as the wheels ground to a halt.

Eddie reluctantly pushed open the door. “Keep watch. You know what to do if you see anybody.”

Eddie grabbed the GPS and followed it to the Scouts’ location, just 20 yards away. Each step felt like torture. He knew every last stride, no matter how small, would bring him closer to giving the order that would kill his friend. The weight of dread pulled at his chest.

He finally crouched behind a rock formation beside the pair of Scouts.

“You sure that it’s him?” He longed for the answer to be no.

“No doubt about it, Sir,” responded 2154. Eddie’s shoulder felt like it’d been shot. “Wounds are consistent with the report; it’s gotta be him.”

“Good,” Eddie lied. “We enter together, then split to comb the building. You see him, you put him down.” The words felt thick around his tongue.

He took point as they crept up to the building. It looked like it had once been residential. Emphasis on once. Every window on both stories was boarded up, and the walls were peeling and rotting. The wooden deck groaned beneath their footsteps. Eddie flattened his back to the wall, and 2154 mirrored him. He waved 3878 over. He cocked his pistol and positioned himself before the door. 

Eddie raised three fingers.

Get in.

He lowered one.

Pull the trigger.

Only one stood in the air now.

Get out.

He clenched his fist, and the door was kicked down with a crash. Eddie darted inside with the Scouts, weapons raised. They took a few steps forward. Nothing would be escaping Eddie's sight. Every crack in the drywall was noted, every chip in the staircase, every shadow in the dimness.

"Clear," he declared. "You two, upstairs. Radio silence unless you encounter movement."

"Sir," hissed the Scouts in unison. Somehow, not a single creak escaped the stairs as they ran up.

Eddie took a steady breath as he stepped forward. He gripped his gun tight enough for his fingers to go pale beneath his gloves. He inched through what he guessed to have been a sitting room. He slipped through a gap in the wall sectioning it off from another room. A kitchen, maybe. He saw something twitch and whipped around with his finger tense on the trigger. He glared down at the chipped wooden crate he was aiming at.

"Show yourself," he spat. No reply. Fine. He wasn't the one making this difficult. 

He punted the crate, only for a sizable rat to scurry over his other foot. He hopped back with a sharp gasp. If he hadn't forgotten to flick the safety off, he'd probably be missing a couple extremities. Fuck. That shouldn't have scared him. He let his heart rest and slunk the rest of his way to another doorway. A hall with three doors awaited him. One had already been torn off its hinges.

The first two rooms yielded nothing. Just boxes, dilapidated furniture bits, and dust. And more fucking rats. 

Eddie’s heart sank as he approached the last one. If Ronan was in there, he was going to have to kill him. If he wasn’t, he was at the mercy of the Scouts. Every slow heartbeat pumped dread through his veins. 

The door swung in with no resistance. He peeked in, shotgun at the ready. This room wasn’t much different from the others, apart from a large desk in the corner. It was the type that had a covered back. The perfect place to hide. He slowly advanced toward it and caught a shadow snapping behind it.

“Movement,” he hissed to his mic. “Stand by.”

He marched over to the desk. Get in, pull the trigger, get out. He made sure the safety was off and stepped around to the open side.

Sure enough, there was Ronan. Bloodied, bruised, afraid. He was trembling, knees huddled to his chest. His lips were parted to let in the deep breaths he was taking. His eyes were wide. For good reason, too, because they were staring right into the barrels of Eddie’s gun.

Pull the trigger. That’s all he had to do, and then he could leave.

Eddie gazed down at the Dissenter before him. A deserter, a coward, and a traitor. It should have been the easiest thing in the world to blow his brains out. He was a good, loyal soldier of Nexus Core. And Ronan was right to be terrified. Eddie could feel his pulse in his fingertips. In his throbbing shoulder. In his throat. In his eyes.

Get in. Pull the trigger. Get out.

...Who the fuck was he kidding?

“10-22. Continue search.”

Eddie dropped to his knees, discarding his shotgun unceremoniously on the floor. He flung his arms around Ronan and pulled him close. A quivering pair of hands gripped the back of his jacket in return.

“I’m sorry, Ro,” Eddie whispered. He gave him a ginger squeeze, careful not to apply any pressure to his injuries. “I’m so sorry.”

Ronan buried his face into his sore shoulder. He said something, but Eddie wasn’t sure it was intelligible, even without being muffled. For a little while, the only sounds were the soft squeaks from a Scout’s footsteps above. Ronan shifted away just enough to be heard this time.

“I’m scared.”

He rubbed Ronan’s shivering back. “That’s alright.”

“Are you gonna kill me?”

The question suckerpunched Eddie. He shouldn’t have been shocked by it, considering the circumstances, but… it was jarring. He begrudgingly let go of Ronan to remove his mask. How long had it been since he and Ronan had looked eye-to-eye without the red glass in the way?

“I can’t.”

It did feel humiliating to confess. Eddie was betraying just about everything he’d been taught. He was disobeying a direct order. One from a very high officer, no less. Refusing to eliminate a Dissenter.  _ And _ because they were close. Ronan should not have been anything but another Agent in his eyes. Eddie was an accomplice at best.

If that’s the label he’d wear for protecting his friend, then… fine. Just this once. Just for Ronan.

“I saw what happened,” he uttered softly. He gently inspected the deep cut on Ronan’s forehead. He winced, but allowed it. His thumb ghosted down to a purpling blotch on his cheek. “He tried to tell me you cut his arm off, you know. Made it sound like you attacked him.”

“I-I… I didn’t mean to,” began Ronan.

“I know,” Eddie assured him. “I believe you. It’s okay.” 

Ronan looked like he was on the verge of tears. Eddie’s search for the words to help were cut short by a heavy thump from upstairs. 

“The hell?” he murmured. He slid his gun closer, brows furrowed at the ceiling.

“Contact!” came a hoarse snap in his earpiece. “SC-3878 to AG-1003, EG-4413, 10-78! I need backup  _ now _ !”

Eddie pressed a hand to Ronan’s chest and nudged him against the back of the desk.

“Stay down,” he instructed. Ronan nodded, his face paling over again. Eddie kept his palm pressed against his chest while grabbing his shotgun with the other. He hugged the desk with his back, listening. He didn’t have to wait for long before the floorboards above screeched as someone ran across them. Mixed gunshots followed, and he could feel Ronan starting to shake again.

“You’re alright.” Eddie kept his voice low enough to still hear the thudding and creaking and banging upstairs. “I’m here. You’re gonna be fine.”

He could hear rapid footsteps pounding across the sitting room before ending abruptly. They were replaced by a single, heavier thump. Quiet. Then the wood whined at much lighter steps. Shit, were those coming down the stairs?

Eddie analyzed the possibilities. It was no secret that the Outskirts were laden with drifters, and, well… Nevada was Nevada. That was fine. He could shoot back if this were some random bandit. The other hazard was that it was one of his own men. He didn’t really have a perfect plan for that just yet. Either way,  _ someone _ was definitely getting closer, and Eddie’s new objective was ensuring Ronan got out of this alive.

The footsteps drew closer. They stopped just at the entrance to the room.

“It's safe to come out now,” stated a distorted voice. Ronan breathed a hefty sigh of relief, as if he had been holding his breath the entire time.

“What, you know this guy?” Eddie whispered to Ronan.

“He helped me get out of the city,” he replied as he squeezed his way out from under the desk. Eddie poked his head out, only to freeze when met with the barrel of a 1911 staring him down from the doorway.

“Relax! Please, I…! He’s with me,” stammered Ronan. 

The man holding the gun kept his sights on Eddie for a minute more. Each second dragged on more than the last. He finally lowered the weapon to his side.

Eddie fully removed himself from under the desk, now able to get a clear view of the man. He wore a rather mismatched outfit; khaki pants with an unfitting black hoodie. Covering his chest was a plate carrier with bullet holes that still smoked. He seemed to be wearing a balaclava, but it was hard to tell with the mechanical mask. The two green oculars looked like they could pierce through anything.

“So, who’s the friend?” Eddie finally inquired. 

“He says people usually call him… uh... Operator.” Ronan shrunk a bit at the Operator’s head whipping around towards him.

“We need to get out of here. Gimme a reason not to take him out right now.”

“I’ve known Ed since we were kids. We can trust him.”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s one of them. The moment we’re gone, he’ll call for backup. The fact that his brains aren’t on the walls is a risk enough as it is.”

“If we couldn’t trust him, I wouldn’t be alive right now.” Ronan insisted. The Operator’s stare didn’t budge.

“Fine, but if he makes one wrong move, I’m shooting both of you.”

“Now you wait just a second,” Eddie snipped, fuming. “You lay a single goddamn finger on him, and I’ll--”

“You’ll what?” he snarled.

Eddie made no effort to hide his glare, but bit his tongue. Was he really in a position to make threats? Maybe not, but he could still make promises. He set his shotgun and mask down on the desk. He deliberately strode toward this “Operator”, who seemed to size him up as he did the same.

“Listen here, mister. I didn’t just lay my  _ everything _ on the line just for you to turn around and shoot my friend. So you know what I’ll do if you fuckin’ hurt him?” Eddie had to crane his neck up to meet his “eyes” once they’d stopped. There was no more than a foot between them. 

“Do tell,” crooned the Operator.

Eddie glimpsed at Ronan. In the nicest terms possible, he looked fucking pitiful. He was marred from the beating he’d had no chance of defending himself from. He wasn’t built for fighting, neither physically nor mentally. Eddie looked back up into the oculars.

“I’ll kill you,” he said plainly.

Eddie fully expected a gloved fist to come flying at him when he saw the Operator’s arm move. He flinched back, ready to catch it before realizing it was a still, outstretched hand.

“I can respect that.” He sounded honest through the voice filter.

Eddie clasped his hand and shook it. “Good.”

Operator broke the hold first, moving away from the door. “Your boys fired first, if that helps my case any.”

Eddie tapped his earpiece. “I need to check if any of my team survived. These things are on isolated channels, so I can’t make a long-distance call back to base. Just thought I’d warn you.”

He nodded and raised his index finger to where his lips would be.

Eddie cleared his throat. “EG-4413. Does anyone copy?” He let a bit of time pass before trying again. “3878? 1003? 2154?”

A beep. “SC-3878, Sir.” Eddie was relieved to hear the quiet, shuddery voice. They  _ were _ still his teammates, after all.

“Status?”

“Injured, Sir. I… I don’t think I can move on my own. Three, or… five… five GSW. I’m upstairs. Unknown hostile surprised us.”

“I know,” Eddie said. “I’m working on it. Stay put. I’ll retrieve you in a moment.” He disconnected with a sigh. Shit, shit… this was okay. He could figure this out. He checked his mic was off before turning to the pair behind him. Operator was examining his Mossberg, hands behind his back. He backed away when he noticed Eddie watching.

“It’s nice.”

“Thanks, but, uh... I have a plan. And I need both of you to follow it, okay?”

Both the Operator and Ronan glanced at each other before nodding in unison.

“That guy upstairs needs to think you’re dead. Shoot out those planks on the window. After he’s done that, I need you to scream.” He pointed to Ronan. He returned the gesture with a puzzled look, but nodded nonetheless.

The Operator grabbed the shotgun off the table, turning the once sturdy planks into splinters. Ronan took a deep breath and let out a cry so real, Eddie almost feared the buckshot somehow hit him. Who said being a theater kid didn’t have its benefits? 

“Attaboy.” He pressed the button on his earpiece. “Target neutralized. Sit tight, I’ll be with you in a moment.” 

“Need anything else before you go?”

“Actually…” He approached the Operator and lowered his voice. “One last favor.”

“What’s in it for me?”

Eddie licked his lips. “I make up a story that won’t give the boys back home a reason to come investigate this place. Wouldn’t want any potential leads back to you or Ronan, right? And lying is a pretty big thing to my officer.” Eddie’s shoulder started pulsing again.

Operator nodded. “What do you want me to do, exactly?”

“Just stick around for a bit. I need to get the bodies loaded, and… I can’t have Ronan see what I have to do.”

“What are you two whispering about?” asked Ronan.

“Just the plan.” It hurt to lie to Ronan, but it was for his own good. “Your pal here is gonna help me get these bodies loaded to bring back home.”

“I can help,” Ronan offered.

Eddie immediately nipped the proposition. “You stay down. Not worth the risk of having you spotted.”

Ronan’s face fell. He nodded and shuffled toward the desk, but froze shortly. Just as Eddie was about to ask what was wrong, Ronan hurtled into him, hauling him into a tight hug. If his shoulder hadn’t been popped earlier, it sure had now. His arms were bent a little awkward, but he still managed to run a hand through Ronan’s buzz cut. Yeah, okay. This kinda helped make the whole ordeal worth it.

A warped groan sounded behind Eddie’s back. “Okay, lovebirds. We’ve got bodies to move, remember?”

He wondered if it was as difficult for Ronan to release him as it was for him to wiggle free. Ronan reluctantly slunk back under the desk.

“Let’s get started.” The Operator led the way to the sitting room. AG-1003 hadn’t made it two feet inside before she’d been shot.

He lifted her body, but not before digging around in one of her satchels and pocketing some extra magazines. Eddie didn’t like watching him rifle through the remains of his teammates. The fucking disrespect. He wasn’t in any position to make demands, though.  _ It’s for Ronan _ , he told himself as they lugged the bodies of 1003 and 2154 to the Humvee. Eddie sent him away to help 3878 down the stairs and into the passenger seat. Credit where credit was due; he’d remained conscious for a while.

“I’m going to do one last sweep and grab the Dissenter,” Eddie told him. 3878 gave him a thumbs-up and went slack in his seat.

Eddie walked back in alone. The Operator was waiting for him in the kitchen. How was he gonna put this?

“So, gonna share the details of this last favor with the class?”

“I need your gun.”

Operator let out a distorted chuckle. “No way, Jose. What makes you think I trust you like that?”

“Okay, fine. You shoot me, then.” Eddie patted his right shoulder with the opposite hand. No skin off his nose if it was already damaged.

“Beg your pardon?”

“It’s gonna look real suspicious if I come back spotless with a half-dead squad and no proof of eliminated hostiles,” he explained. “If I did it with my own guns, it might still draw some looks. Just… somewhere non-vital.”

“Y’know what?” The Operator sounded hesitant. He reached for his belt and offered his gun. “How bout you do it? Only fair since you let me use yours earlier.”

Eddie took hold of it despite his head screaming in protest. Dread squirmed under his skin as he pressed the barrel to it. Right to the little area beneath his collarbone.

“I suppose,” he breathed. Get in, pull the trigger, get out. At least it was easier this time around.

Eddie gritted his teeth against the pain that seared through him. He bit back the scream mounting in his lungs, jaw tight enough to feel the bones scraping against each other. His first time being shot had felt more numb than anything, but that had been a glancing blow. He didn’t expect for an actual hit to be this bad. It was like someone was holding a white-hot poker through his arm. He let the pistol clatter to the floor, clinging to the wound.

When the paralyzing heat died down a bit, he could taste a bit of blood on his tongue. Must’ve bitten down on it. Sweat drenched the back of his collar. Whose brilliant idea was it to wear three-piece suits in battle?

Whatever. All that was left was to get out. Put on a little show like he’d been ambushed, get behind the wheel, and gas it.

“I feel like two was a bit much,” the Operator said. He was crouched down, looking up at Eddie as he picked up his gun.

Eddie nodded. He’d pulled the trigger twice? Huh. He drew his own pistol from its holster; it’d help the act. He turned on his heel and began towards the front door.

“I was serious, you know,” he panted. He didn’t even attempt to sound menacing in his cracked voice. “If you hurt him, I’ll kill you.”


	4. 3. - Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was also supposed to be a shorter chapter, but now this is our new longest one by far! We just narrowly met our deadline on it, but we promise we didn't rush it. Hope you all enjoy, and always remember, feedback is appreciated.

Ronan’s heart raced as he was jostled awake. He whipped his head around, trying to recall where exactly he was. His breath struggled to catch up with him and his eyes were peeled wide open. They landed on the Operator, who was concentrated on the nothingness moving past the windshield of his battered truck. They were definitely not on any road. Ronan squinted against the midday “sun” glaring down at him. He only just realized how stiff he was as he shifted out of the burning light. Christ, was that his neck that made that crunching noise?

“G’morning, Freckles.”

“I do have a name, you know.” He blearily looked over to the awaiting green oculars.

“...My bad. It’s just that sometimes the Nexus folks can… I’ve seen ‘em forget they had anything ‘sides their numbers. Or they don’t wanna remember. Start totally new. So I’m just prone to nicknames.” He cleared his throat. “Anyhow, I woke you for a reason. Think you could answer a couple things?”

“Oh. Sure.”

“When I first found you, you were all beat to shit. What was that about?”

Ronan feared this question would come, hoping that Operator simply wouldn’t care enough to bother asking. He swallowed the lump developing in his throat that tried so desperately to keep the words in.

“When I tried to leave,” he croaked. “My commanding officer wasn’t happy.” He tried his best to be vague, mostly for his own sake, because the memory was still  _ very _ fresh. It replayed in his head if he wasn’t careful. He’d heard Hektor yell before. A lot of people had. But he didn’t know how many of them could say they’d been treated to the sound he had made when the door…. He shoved the thought to the back of his mind. Bile stung at his throat as the sound of hydraulics stalling against flesh and bone echoed in his ears.

“So he clearly tried to kill you,” Operator went on bluntly. “How’d you get away?”

The sick feeling in Ronan’s gut churned as the memories continued to swarm, despite his efforts to keep them down.

“I got lucky,” he squeezed around the tightness blocking his throat. 

Operator chuckled. “Fair enough.”

He concentrated on the engine’s rumble and tires treading over coarse earth. Ronan rested his head against the window, allowing his mind to wander. It didn’t really matter what it was right now, just not last night. There wasn’t a lot to distract him; just the sky, really. He supposed that was better than nothing. If he focused for long enough, he could almost replace the hellish red with a much softer blue he remembered. The idea made him feel like a kid again.

“You and Fatass, huh?” The distorted voice dragged Ronan back to the present.

“Hm...? Oh… you… you mean Ed.” He reluctantly confirmed the nickname; maybe he was just a little bit chubby. “What about him?”

“Why do you trust him so much?” He didn’t beat around the bush.

There were a lot of reasons why Ronan trusted Eddie, but he decided on the simplest answer.

“He’s my friend.”

The Operator let out a condescending chortle, though he did sound genuinely amused. “Last I remember, Nexus doesn’t do friends.  _ And _ they sent the poor son of a bitch to kill you.”

“We kept a low profile. But I guess that doesn’t matter now.” Ronan shrunk in his seat as the regret creeped through him, cold and squirming up his spine. God, was he ever going to see him again? Would Eddie even  _ want _ that? He wished he hadn’t let go of him. Just held on. He found himself clutching his knees to his chest in Eddie’s absence.

...Had he even said goodbye? He racked his brain, trying to scrounge up the memory. Nothing turned up, and his belly sank like lead. Another amazing move by the one and only Ronan Vaughan.

“He’s my best friend. I dunno if he could’ve done it even if he tried.”

“How do you know he didn’t?”

“I… well... I don’t.”

He saw Operator nod out of the corner of his vision. “Y’know, apart from being a bit of a Nexus nutcase, he didn’t seem too bad.”

“Don’t call him that,” Ronan said sharply. “Please. He’s not a nut. Or a fatass.” 

Not a sound from either of them. Ronan swallowed the rapid heartbeat in his throat as he remembered who the Operator was, and what he was doing for him. A familiar pressure was weighing down on him. It was nothing physical -- at least, he hoped not, because it felt like his lungs were being ripped down through his abdomen. It was a little difficult to keep his breath even. It was almost like being around Hektor.

“Ed’s just… he’s dedicated. He’s not a fanatic or whatever, he--”

“Sorry, Ronan.”

The conversation went as quickly as it came, the idle sound of the beaten engine filling the void. Ronan aimed his eyes down to his hands. They still didn’t really feel like they were his. He blamed a bit of that on the abhorrent lack of a proper sleep. No way he was going to be catching it here, though; he was sure of that. He didn’t really have time anyway, because before he knew it, the Operator spoke again.

“We’re close.” 

Ronan craned his neck to look for… well... he actually wasn’t sure what to expect. Anything that wasn’t the clouds of dust being kicked up by the tires. If he squinted, he could make out a small building. The bumpiness of the earth smoothed out beneath them. Maybe they’d found their way back onto a road, but Ronan was too occupied to check. There were multiple buildings, now. Enough to count as a tiny town, if he was willing to stretch the definition.

“I dunno if there’s a natural way to say this, but uh…. Take off your clothes.” 

Ronan froze. “What?”

“We gotta get you changed. A lot of the folks around here don’t have a high opinion of Nexus. I’m sure you can’t really blame ‘em for that. So how d’you think they’d react if someone came strutting around in full uniform?”

Ronan felt a little stupid for not piecing that together.

The truck stalled to a stop just outside the town, finding respite behind one of the torn-up buildings right along the outskirts. “Keep your head down. I’ll be right back.”

Ronan nodded and shrunk further into his seat, keeping his head just below the window.

“Oh,” Operator paused, one leg hung outside. “Another thing.” He reached for the pistol in his holster, extending it to Ronan by the barrel. “Just in case.” 

Ronan stared at the pistol for just a moment. “What if you need it?”

“I’ll be alright, Freckles.” He was pretty sure he heard a smile behind the words. He closed his fingers around the grip.

Operator slipped out of the truck and the door closed with a slam. Ronan slouched further, curled up against the bottom of his seat. He had hoped that being alone would ease some of his anxiety, but… no dice. The enclosed space also didn’t aid in soothing his concerns, every little sound now becoming obvious to Ronan. 

He thought of turning on the radio, thinking the sound of someone’s voice would supply some comfort in the near dead silence. He decided it was a bad idea. The last thing he wanted was some curious marauder poking around the truck. Ronan realized how excruciatingly open his position was, then. A stranger’s truck, in the middle of nowhere, obscured only by a few crumbling buildings. All someone had to do was turn a corner and there it would be, in plain view. He expurgated the thought from his head, noting his increased heart rate. He was practically laying against the floor now.

He turned his attention towards the pistol. It felt  _ wrong  _ to see it in his hands, yet it was the only thing keeping him safe from who-knew-what. And goddamn was he holding it tight.

_ Just until he gets back,  _ Ronan assured himself.

The driver’s door opening whipped his aim towards the window. The tightness in his muscles faded as he was greeted with a pair of green oculars. Ronan let the gun fall from his hands and onto the seat.

“Easy there, cowboy. Might shoot your eye out.” Operator dumped a heap of varying gray cloth into the driver’s seat.  “I just grabbed what I thought would fit you. Knock yourself out.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Lemme know when you’re done and we can get moving.” Operator reclaimed his pistol. He rounded the truck to lean his back against Ronan’s window, blocking it.

Ronan picked through the bundle of cloth, setting each item apart one by one. It took him a few seconds to find a shirt that didn’t have holes in it. His search in the pants department didn’t go so smoothly, but he was still able to secure a pair of jeans from the pile. Now all he had to do was change. He nervously glanced out the window. Operator’s back was still very much obscuring the view from outside and in. The windshield was facing the building. Alright, he figured, he’d undressed in worse places. Step one: jacket. Easy enough.

Fuck, he didn’t remember sweating this much, but he practically had to peel his arms free of his shirt, elbows bonking against the tight space. He wouldn’t miss the dress code, that much was certain. At a first glance, he couldn’t tell whether the once-crisp shirt’s condition was better than the turtleneck he pulled over himself. At least this didn’t have mixed blood stains on it. Not that he’d seen, anyway, and that was good enough. He paused while beginning to unbutton his pants. Yeah… no way he was gonna do that with someone right outside. He tucked his suit jacket into the corners of the window, creating a sort of curtain. Better than nothing. He wasn’t sure he’d ever squirmed into a pair of pants faster in his life.

He folded his uniform on his lap. He’d never really figured out how to get it perfect, despite Eddie’s efforts to teach him. He discarded the thought because it wasn’t like he really had to worry about it anymore. Plus, it hurt a little to think about Ed. He pulled the suit jacket free from the window and tied the sleeves around the bundle resting on his legs. He caught his reflection in the windshield. Bruises he hadn’t even noticed stood out on his uncovered arms, and his face didn’t look much better. He picked at some of the dry blood that had dripped down from his forehead.

_ You look like shit, but at least you’re still here _ . 

He knocked on the window, and the Operator backed away to open the door. He’d barely gotten a look at him before he was yanked around the corner. 

Panic shot through Ronan as he heard him shout. He ducked out of the truck, looking for a place to hide.  _ Shit _ . He didn’t want to die out here in the wastes. He hated how he instinctively reached for a nonexistent gun. He spotted a fissure in the concrete building, barely the right size for him to squeeze through if he crawled. That was his ticket. He scrabbled inside, holding his breath as his shoes scuffed against the stone. Maybe whoever was outside hadn’t heard it. He strained his ears, listening for any indication.

Nothing. Nothing except… laughing? Two sets of it, maybe, but that was hard to tell through a voice filter that was undoubtedly the Operator’s. He stayed on his knees as he approached the sound.

“You asshole!” he heard him chuckle. “Near scared the piss outta me!”

Ronan pressed his ear to a thin crack in the wall.

The next speaker was definitely a woman. “It’s what I do.”

“I’m only gone for four days, and this is what I come back to. Christ.”

“You said it’d be a  _ couple _ , you liar.”

He heard someone else, now. His voice was clear, a tad deep.

“When am I gonna learn to not tell you things?”

“Can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

“I don't remember asking the peanut gallery."

“Yeah, well….”

Ronan moved to peek through a larger gap, chest to the cool floor. He had to squint as his eye adapted to the daylight, but he could clearly see the Operator laying on the ground. Someone was crouched over him, a bandana and goggles obscuring their silhouetted face. Ronan noticed a distinct lack of who could've been the third speaker. That was only made more odd by the fact that he would've heard someone walking away. Unless… hm. It wasn’t really the voice he would’ve put to the Operator, but it made sense.

The person extended an arm to Operator. He accepted it and began to sit up. Just as he brought himself to his feet, he wrenched the arm's owner down with a rowdy laugh. Sand plumed beneath her as she slammed into the ground, some of it spraying directly into Ronan's peephole. He suppressed a gasp and recoiled. He clutched his eye, now prickling with pain. He desperately tried to rub it away.

"You're such a dick!" he heard the woman snort. More thumping followed, but Ronan was too engrossed to watch what exactly was happening. All he saw around him was plumes of dust anyway. A sneeze overtook him, and he shot backwards with the sheer force of it. He had to admit, he’d never had one that left a sort of… pointy… stabby feeling in the tip of his nose. 

“Hey!” snapped the man outside. Ronan felt his muscles tense in alarm as he eased his eyes open. He hadn’t expected the edge of a blade to be kissing his nose, but there it was. He flinched, shuffling away from the crack. He could feel an unsavory scrape biting at his skin.

“ _ What _ ?” the woman demanded.

Ronan couldn’t hear whatever was said next. He held his breath as the knife wiggled loose between the stone. It seemed to be in pretty tight, because it took a second for it to finally be pulled free. The light filtering in was quickly obstructed by a familiar green glow.

“Jesus, bud, what are you doing in here?”

Ronan took a few moments to find words. “I thought… I, uh…. I hid.”

“Ah, shit.” Operator moved away from the crack. “You scared him, Puffs! Come on out.”

“Who?”

Ronan squeezed his way out of the crack, much more carefully than he had entered it. He rubbed away the irritation in his eye as the pair rounded the corner. He could see the woman much clearer now, but her figure was still pretty vague. Probably something to do with the hood covering her head. She tilted her head, returning Ronan’s stare through her goggles. The skull on the bandana covering her face grinned down at him.

He guessed the hoodie she wore used to be white at one point, but hadn’t held up through various stains and clear age. Bandages were wrapped around her knuckles, and apparently they didn’t really stop. Ronan had initially mistaken them for her sleeves with the way they wound up to her shoulders. She patted herself down, removing some of the dust that clung to her. 

“This nut here goes by a lot of names, work of yours truly. Usually known as Reese.” Operator gestured towards her. “Friend of mine.”

“Who’s the new kid?” Her head darted between him and Ronan. 

_ Kid? Really? _ At least Ronan was ensured that, even at the ripe old age of twenty-six, strangers would let him know he didn’t look the part.

“Why you got him following you around?” Reese didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s ‘cause you think he’s cute, isn’t it?”

“ _No_.” Ronan was relieved to hear the quick response. He felt the Operator’s elbow connect with his side. “Wanna explain?”

“Oh, I ran into some trouble with my… my boss,” Ronan stammered. “I got away from him, but I didn’t really have anywhere I could go. Opera--”

He was cut off by a heavy groan from Reese. “Don’t tell me he’s had you calling him that this whole time.”

Ronan nodded. What else was he supposed to call him?

“Oh my god.  _ Really _ , Alex?”

The Operator -- or, Alex, he supposed -- slapped her arm. “ _ Yes _ , really! You expect me to just tell every random bozo my name? No offense,” he added as he looked to Ronan.

Reese snickered. “Wait, wait, okay. You’ll get to finish, but first, let me guess what he’s tried to nickname you so far.” She stroked her chin behind the bandana, stepping back to read him. “Let’s see… Skinny?”

“Uh… no.” He looked down at himself. Was he really that thin?

“Babyface.” He didn’t like how confident that one sounded.

“Huh-uh.”

“Scruffy?” Ouch.

“Nope.”

Reese crossed her arms, picking him apart, her brows knitted in deep consideration. She clicked her tongue in resignation. “I got nothin’.”

“ _ Freckles _ , Puffs!” Alex finally cried in exasperation. Ronan felt like a deer caught in headlights as he was shaken by his shoulders. “Look! Covered in ‘em! Frec-kles!”

“You’re shitting me. I thought you were more creative than that,” she teased.

“I fucking hate you.” 

Reese gasped and brought her hand up to her chest. “Alex…” she choked. “I… I’ve been waiting so long for you to say those words!” She lifted her goggles a bit to wipe away a nonexistent tear.

Ronan’s head hurt.

“Alright, enough fuckin’ around.” Business returned to Alex’s tone, to Ronan’s relief. “You can lead him back to camp, right? He could probably use some patching up.”   
  
“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.” Reese said. There was still an air of playfulness in her words.

Alex gave Ronan a pat on the back. “Don’t worry, Freckles, she doesn’t bite… mostly. If she locks her jaw, though, your friend might have to fulfill his promise.”

“I love how you aren’t even trying to be hush,” Reese interjected.

Alex chuckled and gave them one last wave before hopping back inside the truck, leaving him alone with Reese. He wasn’t exactly sure about her. There was something about the way she moved. It was all too quick, too forceful.

“Let’s get going,  _ Freckles. _ ” She spat the last word. “I still can’t believe that’s the best name he had for you.”

He summoned a weak smile and shrugged. “You can always call me Ronan.”

“Fine by me.” She gestured for him to follow. He fell in behind her footsteps, taking bigger strides to make up for his limp. It didn’t help that she was almost jogging through the sand. “What was with that last bit? About your friend? You not come alone? I’m just kinda curious, ‘cause I don’t think I saw anyone else.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. My friend back home. He said he’d...” Ronan coughed in an attempt to hide the shakiness of his voice. “Well, he… said he’d kill him if I got hurt.”

Reese threw her head back with a laugh. “Sounds like a friend worth keeping. Are those common where you’re from?”

Where he was from…. Ronan recalled Alex’s warning: a lot of the folks around here didn’t have a high opinion of Nexus. It was probably a good idea to keep those details out. Pebbles kicked aside by their shoes clacked against what may have once been a road as he grasped at a few potential threads in his mind. Short, sweet, and technically not wrong would be best, he decided 

“They used to be.”

She led him into the shade cast by tall, crumbling buildings. The ground beneath their feet turned more solid. The sand had completely thinned out beneath them now, and their footsteps had a slight echo. He slowed down, observing the place. Maybe these buildings surrounding them had been apartment complexes of some sort before. They seemed large enough. Not to mention cramped. More windows that were boarded up than not. He wondered if anyone lived there, or if they were rightly deserted.

“I never did let you finish earlier, did I?” Ronan almost bumped into her as she made a sudden stop and swerved left into an alley identical to the ones beside it. He slipped in after her. “Five years and I still miss that turn all the time. Can you believe that shit? Anyhow, you said something about your boss, right? What did you do for work?”

“Janitorial stuff a lot of the time. My b--”

“What happened for him to fuck you up so bad?”

He was a little taken aback by how straightforward Reese was. It was a lot like how Alex had poked at him back in the truck, but with less intimidation. She definitely gave Ronan reasons to be wary, keep a few paces behind her as they crept through the narrow alley, but it wasn’t the same smothering sense of disquiet. His inquiry had felt much more clinical. Like he was being interviewed. Reese just seemed too eager.

“I…” He raced to come up with something. “I dunno if I can talk about it yet.”

Reese made a surprised noise. “Recent, huh? With the way you’re lookin’, I figured you’d been out here in the wastes for a while. Not saying you can’t take a while to be ready to think back on things like that, but y’know what I mean. Guess those wounds would’ve already healed up by now, too.”

Ronan wiped a bit of sweat from his brow. It wasn’t hot; it was actually quite nice in the shadows. He was worrying more about how long it would be until he couldn’t dance around a question.

“Where  _ are _ you from?”

“Henderson.” It wasn’t wrong; he was born there, so he was from there.

“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Why?”

Reese halted, turning to him. He stumbled over a stray brick at the stop. “With all the raids and such. Which, by the way,  _ wasn’t us _ .”

Ronan tried not to look surprised. Had Nexus really been keeping  _ that much _ information from its troops? Then again, they might have been the ones responsible for it. Maybe folks in Henderson had intelligence or supplies, but Nexus hadn’t been able to twist the information to justify the acts. Even though he didn’t live there for long, he was still crestfallen at the news.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “That’s Nevada, I guess. It happens.”

“‘Cept when it doesn’t.”

Reese didn’t resume walking. Ronan hadn’t realized how tall she was until now, arms crossed as she looked down at him. She nudged at a chunk of loose asphalt, not breaking her gaze, not saying a word. Ronan had a funny feeling that she was glaring.

“Henderson hasn’t experienced a raid in years,” she said. Her tone confirmed his suspicions and he blanched. “What all have you been lying to me about, Ronan? Assuming that wasn’t another one.”

Shit.

The sweat was pouring down his head now as her hand made contact with her blade. His mind raced, scrambling for an answer. It emptied as the feeling of cold steel against his thyroid came to him, and all he could think about was the sharp blade sinking in.

“Nexus,” he blurted. “I’m from the Nexus!”

She paused, staring him down, expression unreadable past the blackness in her goggles.

“Why didn’t ya just say so earlier?” She backed off. Ronan realized he hadn’t taken a breath the entire time.

“I thought you would kill me,” he gulped.

She scoffed and tucked the blade safely inside its sheath. “Nah, not me. Had a feeling, anyhow. The only people who cover their asses this hard are ex-Nexies, I’ve seen it before.”

She gave him a pat on the shoulder, which would’ve been more reassuring if she hadn’t tried to knife him twice in the span of ten minutes. She started back on her way. 

“Gotta admit, you had me fooled for a while. Who was your boss? One of the Engies?” 

“Soldat.” Ronan corrected while lagging behind. “Hektor.”

His response earned a growl from Reese. “ _ Hektor? _ ” The hate was clear in her voice. “He’s been giving us shit for years. Wait til Alex fuckin’ hears this one.” She took hold of Ronan’s arm and eyed up his wounds.

“That’s his work, alright. You’re lucky to be alive, kid.”

“No kidding?”

They stepped through a gaping hole in one of the buildings so large that Ronan wondered how it was still standing. 

“Tell me more about your friend.”

“Why?” Something rose through Ronan’s abdomen. He had been jittery for hours, but for some reason, this request didn’t help. It was an odd, bridling sensation that scaled his ribcage.

“Just curious.”

“His name’s Eddie,” he said after a moment of hesitation. The discomfort in his chest turned to an ache as memories forced themselves into his head. “I wouldn’t be here without him. He helped me escape.”

“He an Agent?”

“No. Engineer.”

She almost seemed surprised. “Not a shabby job at all. It ain’t easy to get friends in Nexus, ‘specially so high up. Sounds real committed to you, all things considered. Kinda surprised he didn’t tag along.”

“He’s not just committed to me.” 

She grunted. “Real deep in the Nexus hole, huh?” 

The alleyway had become even tighter, only a bit of daylight shining through at the end. They had to squeeze up against the walls a bit as they neared, and Ronan took it as an opportunity to not respond.

“Just follow my lead, alright?” she said.

“Yeah.”

Ronan narrowed his eyes in an attempt to spare them from the blinding light filling the wide, open space. A welcome change of pace from the alley. He took in a deep breath and blinked, drinking in the scene. The architecture surrounding him looked like it had once been a town square of sorts. He could picture a few of the derelict buildings having been shops or restaurants at some point. There was also a bit of a rarity to the left end: a tree. A real one, too! It was very dead. He could tell that even from a good few yards away. It still perked his eyebrows, though. Forever had gone by since he’d seen one at all.

"Honey!" Reese shouted to the air, causing Ronan to flinch. She reached for her hood, and dark, coily hair eagerly sprung free as she lifted it. She shook her head to get a chunk of it out of her face. "I'm home!"

Her greeting earned chuckles from a few people sitting on a stone porch. One of them waved as they passed.

"There she is!  _ And _ she brought back dinner!"

Ronan yelped and stumbled back as the stranger reached out for his leg. A very obvious, toothy grin was spread across his smutched face. Reese kicked his arm aside while he and his friends hollered with laughter.

"Poor guy! Look at his face!" he cackled.

"Not again, Marshal! He only just got here!"

_ Again? _ Was this kind of thing going to be common around here?? Ronan wasn’t so sure he could take that.

Marshal sat back, still grinning at Ronan. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry, kid. Welcome and all that jazz."

Ronan ground his teeth. Godammit. Reese led him by his arm along the row of buildings. He couldn't help but gawk at everything around him, and his aggravation melted away. This place was a stark contrast to the orderly and constant Nexus City. The last time he'd seen something like it was before moving out to what used to be Vegas. Nothing close to it, of course. This place wasn't paradise, but it was... something. No building was identical to its neighbor; instead, they were all adorned by different holes and chips and tears, or an occasional smattering of weeds. Loose stones and bricks littered the blotchy earth. Tiny bits of broken glass shimmered in the noontide, sparkling in his peripheral. Ronan felt a rising urge to pick up a piece, which he scolded himself for thereafter. What was he? A child?

He shifted his focus to the people around him. Much like the structures, the sheer disparity was more electrifying than it should’ve been. They all dressed similar, sure, but there was no sort of uniform in sight. Even civilians had a loose dress code back home. There was also a distinct lack of clones; much to Ronan's ease, no face he saw was identical. Nexus had taken care of that issue by hiding its troops' features behind masks and shades and berets. Not here. Some of the faces were old, with lines etched into them, while others couldn't have been more than twenty. They were all at least a bit marked up with dust and soil, but again, it was all unalike. Most people only spared a passing glance at Ronan, but a couple here and there would smile, and he would feel his heart flutter. Reese waved to a few people, saying things he was too distracted to hear. She tugged him a bit closer as they walked by a small group that was eyeing Ronan with clear suspicion.

"Don't engage with them," Reese muttered quietly. "They got real fucked over by Nexus. Still, uh... sore about it, pretty on edge with most new arrivals."

Ronan nodded.

"I promise I'll take you sightseeing once we get you patched up. Without that lot, of course. How good are you with directions?"

"I know up, down, left, and right," he offered. He’d always been terrible.

Reese made a  _ ‘pfft’ _ sound. "And not even forwards or backwards? You're gonna get  _ so _ lost around here."

A grin pulled at the corners of Ronan’s mouth. She stopped before a slightly larger building, carefully kept safe from the decay around it. She led him inside, where several beds lined the walls. Most of their sheets stained with old and recent blood alike.

“Take your pick.” 

Reese made her way to a cabinet, rifling around while rambling to herself. Ronan decided on the bed that looked the cleanest, but as he perched on the edge, he couldn’t help but wonder when the last time its bedding was washed. Reese exclaimed and approached with a roll of bandages in one hand and an opaque brown bottle in the other.

“My mom used to do this all the time when I was a kid,” she said as she set the bandages aside. “I would scrape my knee playing outside -- a lot, ‘cause I was a dumbass -- and she’d pour this stuff on it. Always hated the sting.” She gave the brown bottle a little shake, then placed her hand on Ronan’s forehead, tilting it back rather forcefully. The cold liquid poured onto the cut just above his brow. He cringed and winced at the initial burn, but it was shortly replaced by a fizzling noise. Reese dabbed at the spot with a cloth before securing the bandages around his head. Ronan gingerly probed at the dressing, unsurprised when his wound bit in retaliation. His hand was smacked away for Reese to wipe at smaller scrapes.

“Sure as hell beats gangrene, though, huh?” Reese walked off to put away her supplies. “Try not to get your ass beat again. Ain’t exactly swimming in this stuff,” she added. 

“Yeah.” He felt a bit ashamed, forcing these people to use their finite supplies on him, somebody they didn’t even know. Somebody who would’ve been their enemy just a few days ago.

They exited the makeshift infirmary to be greeted with Alex striding towards them. The purpose in his step didn’t bode well for Ronan.

“Didja give him a lollipop for being such a good boy?” Alex said as he closed the distance.

“We just ran out.”

“That’s a shame, ‘cause you’re not out of the red just yet, Freckles.” Ronan’s knees folded at a hearty slap on the back Alex delivered. He really wished he would stop doing that. But he didn’t like the idea of asking for anything now.

“Hey, fast food!” whooped Marshal. His little group was still laughing.

“I’m gonna go kick his ass. You guys have fun.” Reese gave a little wave and began towards the chuckling men on the porch. 

Alex was already on his way to wherever he was taking Ronan by the time he looked over. He did a small jog to catch up.   
  
“Where are we go--”

“You’re gonna have a little chat with  _ my _ boss. We’ll figure out what to do with you then.” Alex cut him off. The sudden change in his tone didn’t help.

“Russell’s kinda the leader of this place. Super nice guy. He just wants to talk to you.” 

The trail led them back near the edge of town to a rather dull house. It didn’t look too bad, but it definitely hadn’t been spared from whatever left the rest of the town crumbling. Alex stepped up to the front door, while Ronan stayed at the foot of the stairs. He felt intimidated, but he couldn’t place what was causing it.

Alex knocked out a tune on the flimsy wood. Ronan heard a groan from deeper in the house. The door creaked open.

“Back already, huh?” someone in the doorway asked.

“Got that new fella for you.” Alex pointed his thumb back, and the person stretched his neck to get a look.

“You know the deal.”

Any exchange from this point forward was unknown to Ronan, as Alex hushed his voice, whispering with the doorway. He tried his damndest to make out some words in the cloud of whispers. He could have sworn he heard “Nexus” in there.

“He’s all yours.” Alex declared, turning back towards Ronan.

“You’ll be alright, Freckles,” he whispered. He gave a thumbs up and another pat on the back for good measure. The way he was hyping this up didn’t mitigate any of the unease building within Ronan.

“Name’s Russell.”

The statement drew his attention to the man -- Russell, he presumed -- who was now examining him. He was bearish looking, quite a bit gruffer than some of the people Ronan had passed by. A faux hawk sat atop his head and a 5 o’clock shadow covered his chin. It was starting to trail down his neck a bit. A long trench coat spanned from his shoulders all the way down to his heels, riddled with holes all the way down. Some were fine enough to have been from bullets. Beneath was a stained tank top, finished off by shabby camo pants and combat boots. Ronan’s gaze finally rested on his half-lidded eyes.

“Don’t just stand there, boy. C’mon in.” He turned, fading into the darkness of his home, leaving the front door open.

Ronan took a breath. The feeling of intimidation was not lessened by the creaking of the stairs at each step. It reminded him of the ones at the house near Nexus. He finally entered the home, silently closing the door behind him. Dust floated freely through the living area, dancing in the light from outside. The walls and furniture were glazed with a fine layer of it as well, save for a single, large armchair. Must’ve been where Russell liked to sit. He followed to the kitchen, the only room that wasn’t reached by sunlight. Various stains adorned the hardwood, but it somehow felt cleaner than the cafeteria back at Nexus.

Russell was busy, arm deep in his refrigerator. 

“Here we go…” He mumbled, pulling out a bottle of whiskey that had seen fuller days. “I always save this one for the new arrivals.” He grabbed two glasses from a nearby cabinet, passingly inspecting them for any obvious stains. After wiping one down with his coat sleeve, he spoke.

“You’re called Ronan, right? Ain’t heard a name like that in a good bit. Irish, ain’t it?”

He realized he didn’t actually know. Of the genres of books he read, baby names weren't one of them. “I think so.”

“Good ones, the Irish are. People after my own heart.” Russell took a sip of the whiskey, shuddering as it slid down his throat. He turned and pressed one of the glasses against Ronan’s chest, splashing some of the liquid onto his turtleneck. Ronan shyly took a hold of the glass. Russell pulled up a chair at the beaten table, which creaked under his weight. Ronan did the same and set his glass aside.

“Where to start…? How long you been in Nevada? Born here, or just bad luck?” He thought on the words with another swallow. “Not much difference, I s’pose.”

“Born here. Henderson.”

“Sorry to hear that, with the raids and all.”

“Henderson hasn’t seen a raid in years.” Ronan recognized this trick now.

“Right you are,” he chuckled beneath his breath. “Got caught in that one, huh? Better sooner than later. How’d you find yourself in Nexus City?”

“Er... my moms and I moved from Henderson when I was really little. Maybe… six? At least at the point when it was still called Vegas.”

“What about your dad?”

“Oh!  _ Moms.  _ I said moms. Plural. Common mistake.”

Russell threw up his brow. 

“Are they hot?” he asked, completely deadpan. 

Ronan’s mind blanked and he felt his jaw go a bit slack.  _ What? _ How exactly was he supposed to respond to that? Try as he might to find something to look at that wasn’t the flat face before him, nothing could overpower the stare he was receiving. Russel leaned forward, swirling the bronze liquid in his glass. He narrowed his eyes and Ronan gulped. It was difficult with how tight his throat felt. The awkwardness kept him petrified.

Then, the corner of Russell’s mouth twitched. It slowly raised, drawing out the deep smile lines on his face as it turned into a full, lopsided grin. Roaring laughter ripped through his throat as he threw his head back.

“I’m just fuckin’ with you, man!” he thundered, smacking the table. 

Ronan was still dumbstruck, but at least now he wasn’t  _ as _ on edge.

Russell’s laughter tapered off into a final  _ ‘whew’ _ . He cleared his throat. “Sorry. We tend to be a little rowdy with newbies around here. Maybe that one was a bit too early, though, eh?”

“Just a little,” he choked out.

“My bad.” He downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp. He eyed the bottle, debating whether to pour himself another. Ronan chewed his lip while waiting for him to ask another question, playing with the light in his own glass.

“So... when’d you join the Nexus?” 

Ronan’s eyes widened. He assumed Alex wouldn’t have told anyone about where he came from if the disposition against them was so strong. But here was the leader of this place, well aware.

Russell threw an arm behind his chair. “Y’ain’t the first Nexie to stroll through here, and you won’t be the last. Nothin’ you say t’ me will get out. It’s fine if you don’t want to get too far into it, but I’d like to know some basics.”

“A little over a year ago,” Ronan confessed hesitantly. He ran his thumb along the edge of his glass. He never had been one for drinking, but… he supposed this was a special circumstance.

“Don’t be shy,” Russell said. “Might make it easier for you, and I got plenty more.”

Ronan raised the cup to his lips. He couldn’t recall the last time he had alcohol, but he did know it had been hours since he had a drink at all. The whiskey set his throat on fire as he gradually let it down, trying not to wince. The burn lingered on his tongue, right on the border of overbearing. There was a slight taste of vanilla there somewhere. Russel grinned at him before knocking back a full glass.

“Whenever ya wanna start filling me in.”

He thought for a moment about where to start. The beginning, he decided, when Eddie convinced him to enlist with him. It was a good deal, really: food and water and shelter, a steady pay, benefits for him and his family, and a handsome suit. It hurt to tell him about most of it, but it lifted some weight from his shoulders the more he spoke. Before long, he was spilling out every detail for Russell. He would give an occasional nod, or ask a question for clarity, but otherwise indulged Ronan’s autobiography. His tongue was numbing over from his second glass by the time he got to why Alex had found him stumbling through the City’s streets. It was so easy now, letting everything out, that he wasn’t sure he finished until he noticed the silence. He closed his eyes and buried his head in his arms atop the chipped table. The whiskey and a sense of shame burned at his face.

“I want ya to know I don’t hold nothing against ya,” Russell finally said. “I think you’re just a man who had to do his job. Most of the people here have been in that exact spot before, myself included. Ya hearin’ me?”

Ronan met his eyes. They were tired, but there was another distinct softness in them, a harsh difference from the stern tone.

“Everyone here is like family to me, and I believe a family protects each other. I’ve got one foot kickin’ its way down to Hell for what I done to protect ‘em, and I don’t plan on stoppin’. I don’t expect the exact same from you. Not anytime soon, if ever. That’s not why I’m tellin’ you all this.”

Russell’s chair screeched on the ground as he gently stood. He plucked the bottle up from the table and returned it to his fridge. Ronan sat up.

“I’m just warnin’ you,” he grumbled. “I won’t wait for a damn second to take you to Hell with me if you so much as lay a finger on my folks.”

He turned back around to face Ronan. There wasn’t any anger or disdain in his features like he’d expected. It was just the same, faintly fatigued expression he’d held for most of their chat. Maybe his judgement was a bit clouded at the moment, but he found himself trusting Russell.

“You’ll obviously have to earn your place, but if you wanna stay, you’re one of us, ‘n’ I’ll protect you just the same as someone who’s been here for years.”

Russell’s speech reminded him of Nexus, in the early days, just before he had joined. Protection, in exchange for undying loyalty, they said. But Russell felt different. Like he had his own purpose, and meaning behind his words. He spoke to him like a person, and not a tool. He already cared about Ronan a hell of a lot more than the Nexus ever did.

“I’d love to stay.” Ronan smiled.


	5. 3.5. - Liar, Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long to come out, both me and my co-writer have been busy with real world stuff and other irrelevant things. This past month has just been very unpredictable for us, so we hope you can forgive us for the delay. Otherwise, we hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 3.5: Liar, Liar**

Eddie carefully tested the range of the sling pinning his right arm down. That was going to be fun to deal with for the next few weeks.... At least he was a leftie. He palmed at the thick bandages underneath, mindful of the sensitive shoulder that had just been operated on. The anesthetics were definitely still doing their work, because he didn’t feel a thing in his entire arm.

“Soldat-08 has requested your presence as soon as you can give it,” said the nurse. She flipped through a few papers on her clipboard. “Scout-3878 has also been asking for you. Would you like to visit him before you go?”

The Scout. Eddie’s face fell. The only other surviving member of his team. He was never going to forgive himself for letting half of them just _die_ . He should’ve told Ronan to stay down and gone upstairs to back them up. Better yet, he should’ve completed his original objective. He was confident he’d done the right thing for Ronan, but was it for the best of… _anyone_ else? The repercussions had barely started.

“I’d love to check up on him.”

He lifted himself out of his chair, only to lurch back as everything tipped and turned around him. He closed his eyes tight, waiting for the world to stop wobbling. The room eventually seemed to stabilize, for the most part. He kept his good hand to the wall as he followed the nurse, trying his best not to bump or trip over anything in his path. The walk was short, something his jelly-legs were thankful for.

“Hopefully he’s awake still,” 106 said. She pushed open the door to one of the many identical rooms filled with medical equipment. And, of course, a patient. Eddie reverently followed 106 inside.

After an awkward pause, he shuffled closer. 3878 looked absolutely out of it, blankly staring off into the monitor tracking his heart rate. Shame washed over Eddie as he noticed the IV drip, and the tubes in his nose. Rhythmic _beeps_ hung in the sterile air, the only real sound in the room. Nurse-106’s footsteps were silent as she approached him. She gave him a gentle tap.

“Someone’s here to see you,” she said softly.

3878 looked up. A silly smile spread across his face the moment his eyes focused on Eddie.

“Sir!” The greeting was only one word, but it sounded incredibly slurried. The man was high off his ass on painkillers, and it was showing. Fucking _zonked_. Eddie hadn’t seen someone this gone since his college days.

“You did good out there, pal.” Eddie was sincere, and he was sure that he sounded that way.

“Thank you, thirry-four…” The words rested on his tongue as the gears in his brain ground to a halt. He giggled. “I forgot.”

A sharp _‘hmf’_ escaped Eddie’s nose. He wanted to muster up a proper laugh to join 3878, but the fog in his brain was too thick. Some of him felt bad for it, given the circumstance, but sometimes he just needed to find the humor in things, to keep himself sane. He stepped a bit closer.

“You saved my life, Sir.” 3878’s efforts to sit up were squelched by 106 placing her hand atop his chest.

“No, no. I....” Eddie’s heart panged. “I should’ve been able to do more.”

“You killed a _Dissenter_... an’….” He focused all his energy into forming the words, a tone of awe fighting through his anesthesia. “That other guy… an’ a Dissenner!”

106 examined his IV bag, then looked over to Eddie. “Would you mind if I left for a moment? He needs a new one.”

“Not at all.”

She nodded to him in thanks as he moved out of her way. She paused at the door, whipping around to jab a finger in 3878’s direction.

“And don’t you even _think_ about getting up!”

The Scout burst into gleeful snickers. 106 shook her head, failing to beat down her own smile as she exited. Eddie didn't mind cracking a grin either, listening to the plain stupid laughter. He had to admit it was a little contagious. He got a little closer, mulling over what he wanted to say. There was definitely something sitting on the back of his tongue, but he wasn’t sure what it was just yet. 

He patiently stood at the side of 3878’s bed, waiting for his fit to die down. The Scout’s gaze lost focus once more as it did, though he was still looking right up at Eddie. He really did remind him of his old roommate with that dopey expression. If 3878 wasn’t a clone, he would’ve wondered if they were related.

“A _Dissenter_ ,” he uttered again. “Nexus is… so lucky to have you, Sir.”

The label was a splinter in Eddie’s thoughts. Dissenter. Come to think of it, what did that even _mean?_ He’d never really taken a moment to define that for himself. It could be a lot of things. Someone speaking or acting against Nexus Core was Dissension. Desertion was Dissension. Assault on a higher officer was Dissension. All Dissension was to be met with immediate and indiscriminate action, because they were or would be a danger. He’d just let one go. Why was Ronan different from anyone else?

Something clicked. If he went through with his lies, would he be a Dissenter as well? Was he _already_ one for letting Ronan go? Maybe for even considering the idea at all? He didn’t feel like he was a danger to Nexus. He knew he was dedicated to their cause. He’d already laid his life down for it before, and he knew he would do it again in a heartbeat. Everything was rubbing him the wrong way.

Eddie studied 3878’s face. All he saw was another cog of the machine called Nexus. It’s what he should’ve seen when he looked at Ronan. 3878 was still smiling up at him with admiration sparkling in his hazy vision. He weakly tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but flopped flat once more at a soft touch from Eddie. If he was told 3878 was a Dissenter, he could put him down here and now without a second thought. He tried imagining him as the old friend he reminded him of, and there was still no change. It would be a quick kill. There shouldn’t have been a difference with Ronan. 

_You’re just overthinking things_ , Eddie told himself. _This always happens. Reading between lines that aren’t there._

...If he couldn’t even explain all this to himself, what was he going to tell the likes of Hektor?

Nurse-106 returned with a fresh bag cradled in her arm.

“You should let him get some rest,” she advised. “He’s had a rough day.”

Eddie dragged his mask over his face. “Of course. Soldat-08 is requesting me, anyhow.” 

He turned on his heel and marched out of the infirmary. He noted that he should probably try cutting back on how often he visited this place, even if he was the one under care only once.

The route to Hektor’s office was unremarkable, but ever-familiar to Eddie. He was an Engineer, after all; he had reports to make, bigger duties to be given. Plus, Hektor seemed to trust him a fair deal more than the others of his rank. That was probably subject to change, now, though.

The only thing to differentiate the entrance from the other doors was the golden plaque boasting a special designation: ‘ _Soldat-08._ ’ 

A chill clawed at Eddie’s spine as the door rose. Hektor sat at his desk, awkwardly pressing down on a paper with his elbow while he scribbled something out, the life already returning to his skin. Eddie had to admit he was surprised at how fast he was recovering.

“Engineer,” he muttered tersely. “What was the holdup?”

“I was checking on what remained of my squad, sir.” Eddie cleared his throat as the regret swelled in his chest again.

Hektor followed with a low grumble. 

“A shame.” Apathy riddled his voice. “Tell me about your mission.”

The command rattled in Eddie’s head, as if it was refusing to be comprehended. Was he really about to do this? The bandages would only be the beginning if he was caught.

“We first arrived on the scene once the Scouts had confirmed 932’s position. I went in with them. While searching for the Dissenter, we were attacked by an unknown assailant. He... he took out most of my squad, sir.” Eddie found his voice lowering and he struggled to keep his gaze straight.

Hektor looked up at him as he leaned back in his chair. His fingers expectantly tapped against his cold desk. Each chorus made Eddie's throat feel a little tighter.

“He came down the stairs after injuring 3878, but I caught him by surprise. After eliminating him, I located the Dissenter.” His voice faltered again. 

"The Dissenter was terminated?"

“It was easy. Sir.” He wanted to look proud, but the shame wouldn’t allow his eyes to meet that unwavering red glass. He stared at the floor instead.

“And you have confirmation of this kill, I expect,” Hektor pried. 

“I prioritized recovering my team first.” At least that part wasn’t a lie. “Just as I was going to secure the body, another hostile ambushed me.” 

“ _Do you have confirmation of this kill, Engineer?_ ” Hektor growled.

His hand found its way to his sling. “I… I was forced to make a quick escape. Hostile was armed.”

“Then it appears a recovery team will be in order.” The annoyance in his voice was clear. 

Eddie gulped. “Chances are the bodies are long gone, Sir. I was unable to recover the Dissenter because the second hostile was... interested.”

Hektor’s hand clenched into a tight fist. Eddie could tell that each word leaving his mouth made him increasingly angrier. He was just going through a now-familiar pattern. First would be the taut, seething sort of anger. It usually didn’t last long. The second phase was the even shorter bout of silence. It was usually someone’s last chance to escape the explosion. Eddie knew all if it was only because Hektor was so passionate about Nexus. He was sure of that.

“Scout-3878 can verify this?” Hektor demanded. 

“Yes, Sir.”

Eddie heard the softest squeak as Hektor rose from his seat. He screwed his eyelids shut, an uneasy feeling bubbling in his veins. He matched his breathing with the leisurely clicks against the tile, listening to them draw nearer. Maybe he’d already been caught. He wondered where Hektor might aim first. Maybe he'd be too tired to give him the extended treatment, put him down quick and easy. Maybe he deserved it for defending a Dissenter.

“Tell me, Engineer,” Hektor hummed before falling quiet. The world seemed to follow suit, every sound becoming null. The noiselessness screeched in Eddie’s head. The only respite were the steps approaching him. They dangled in the air, echoing in Eddie’s ears. They stopped less than a foot away from him. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know that Hektor was towering over him. 

“How did you do it?”

"...Pardon, Sir?"

"How did you kill him?" Hektor repeated.

Eddie thought for just a second. “He... went down after one shot, Sir. Mossberg.”

“And how did it feel?”

“What?”

The calculated steps started back up, circling around Eddie. They were torturously slow. There was no doubt that Hektor was picking him apart.

“932 was your very first proper Dissenter, wasn’t he?”

Eddie nodded hesitantly. “Yes, Sir.”

“I assumed someone as loyal as you would be very glad to put him down.”

“...Yes, Sir.”

“ _Really?_ ” Hektor said, incredulous. “Weren’t you close?”

Eddie’s heart had settled somewhere in his stomach the moment he entered the office, but now it was managing to sink even deeper.

"Well, n--" Eddie drug his low nails along the inside of his palm. He'd already been caught in that lie. "I…. Yes, Sir.”

“A little too close.”

A large hand grazed against his uninjured shoulder. Oh, god. It didn’t hurt, but he still had to hold back a whine. He held his breath, preparing himself to be yanked or tossed, or maybe feel the crack of a bone. He’d seen this coming. He had no one but himself to blame for whatever happened.

“I just can’t imagine what that might’ve been like.” 

If that were true, Hektor wouldn’t be wasting his breath with this fake lofty timbre. Maybe this was to test him. See if he’d really done what he was set out to do. See if he had another Dissenter to be put down. 

“Indulge me, Bauer.”

His blood froze. Names were never used here. It was always numbers. Names were usually reserved for individuals who got their very own “WANTED” posters. He took a deep breath, and he placed himself where he had been a few hours ago. He was in front of that old desk, the barrel of his gun pointed down at a deserter.

“Was he afraid?”

Ronan's wide, terrified eyes were still clear in the back of Eddie’s head. The face he made… it was horrible. It was the same expression he wore in the cameras as Hektor stood over him. He was most certainly afraid. Ronan was afraid of _Eddie_.

"Yes, Sir."

“Where did you shoot him?”

He gagged as his mind made up visions of Ronan riddled with buckshot. His chest. Then his stomach. His neck. Each time he tried to get the images out of his head, another took its place. He choked on a whimper as he imagined the cleanest, easiest blow. Ronan didn’t have a hole in his head. Eddie didn’t do that. He quickly uncurled his fingers as he felt a dull sting in his palm. Not now.

“The chest.”

There was a little huff from behind him. It sounded amused.

“Didn’t exactly make it quick for him, huh?”

If Ronan was unlucky enough for it to not have killed him outright, the buckshot almost definitely would’ve hit his organs. The lungs would have been impossible to miss. Eddie’s degree was nothing medical, but if he wasn’t wrong, that would’ve meant a good deal of internal bleeding. Would that mean Ronan would be choking to death? On his own blood? That’s certainly what he couldn’t stop picturing. He could hear the spluttering and the heavy gasps for air as Ronan weakly clawed at the shot. Red was soaking his filthy white shirt and peppering the dusty floor. A few droplets ran down Eddie’s pant leg here and there. The disgusting gurgled rasp crushed him. He wasn’t sure this was just in his head anymore. It was too vivid. Maybe something was just messing with his memory, and the corpse in front of him really had just been too interesting to a random scavenger to pass up. Surely, he wouldn’t be imagining this. The feeling in his palm came back to him, reminding him where he was. Hektor’s office. He had killed Ronan, and his head was playing tricks on him. He’d fulfilled his duty. He was scared to open his eyes for some reason, and they felt awfully wet.

“Good.”

He accepted the flat satisfaction in Hektor’s voice. He wasn’t a Dissenter. He had done his job. He was a little confused right now, but that was alright, because he was still a good soldier of Nexus Core. He was an Engineer. Number 4413.

“Thank you, Sir,” he tried to say. It came out as a shaky whisper between sharp, uneven gasps. It was too quiet to really pick up on until just then. Now it was the only sound, no more footfalls to occupy the dead space.

“Eyes up.”

Eddie obeyed, looking to the Soldat in front of him. He tried to raise his gaze, but the highest he could go was the scarred chin. Hektor’s lip was curled.

“You’d better clean that before you go.”

Eddie followed his gaze. There were indeed a few dark red droplets beneath his quivering, cast-bound arm. He didn’t remember bleeding, but he supposed he wouldn't have felt it happen since the anesthesia was still working its way out. He lifted it, looking around for a source. It was difficult to keep the limb steady with how violently it was trembling. When had that started? He couldn’t spot a leak anywhere, but he partially blamed how foggy his head was. He finally noticed that his hand was furled into a fist so tense that his knuckles were white. The little trails of crimson trickling from between his fingers melted into the rest of his scattered thoughts. He couldn’t unbury his nonexistent nails.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” he said numbly. He didn’t look at him.

He could almost hear Hektor’s teeth grinding against each other as he made one final roundabout.

“I’m sure you are.”

Hektor paced back to his desk.

“Make yourself presentable, 4413. Someone will need to tell his family, and as soon as that’s out of the way, you can work on something more important. Dismissed.”

Eddie cursed himself for taking so long to get his shit together. The fissure in reality that played a charade of the Sun had almost entirely dimmed. A pathetic attempt at nightfall. Several smaller fissures peppered the sky. They almost looked like stars when everything went perfectly black, like tonight. Civilians were still making their way to their homes, picking up the pace when they laid eyes on the Engineer walking through the Residential streets. He couldn’t blame them; being out after curfew was a punishable offense.

His good hand thumbed at the tightly-folded piece of paper that resided in his pocket.

_Are you ever going to make up your mind?_

Eddie knew the news was going to destroy the Vaughans. How was he supposed to tell them their only child was dead? He had already planned out what he’d say if they asked questions. He would let them know that their son had put everything on the line for what he believed in. That Eddie wouldn’t be there without his actions. More and more convenient half-lies that only he could attest to. He promised himself he’d tell nothing but the truth after walking away from that apartment.

The little slip jabbing into his fingers offered something else, though. A headstart on the promise. A tight, messy little scrawl that would contradict the story Eddie was going to tell. They deserved the truth. Handing it off to the Vaughans would be a no-brainer if he wasn’t afraid.

If any sort of suspicion fell on them, it would mean a few things. Interrogations were definite. Those were _never_ pretty with a subject like this. He understood. It was to ensure Nexus City would be kept safe. Harboring Dissenters could mean an active _or_ underground threat. Innocents could get harmed down the line, and.... It was just part of the job.

_Ronan is dead_ , he assured himself. Over and over. He saw it happen, and 3878 could back up the story. There was a gunshot and a scream. That was when Ronan died. It was likely from shock, blood loss, suffocation, or a combination, but Eddie didn’t remember it very well.

He knew he was lying to himself. He didn’t know if Ronan was well, but he was certainly living since he last saw him. He wouldn’t write something like that down if it wasn’t the truth. Or, well, he was pretty sure. Everything was hazy right then, and he couldn’t tell if the parts of him pushing for Ronan to still be alive were sensible or desperate.

For now, though, Ronan was dead. That had to be the truth. He could make himself believe it all because he had to. Sometimes it took a little doing, but he got there eventually. Another piece of his duty was ignoring his clouded judgement. It was the best way to trust Nexus, because they usually held the full picture. He was just one piece of many. He couldn’t rely entirely on himself. 

This was a fair summary of the points that had been looping through his head for the past few hours. He wished it would learn when to shut up.

He hadn’t even realized he was only a block away from his target when he paused. He was even more acquainted with this path than he was to Hektor’s office. It wasn’t exactly a shock. The Vaughans’ had practically been his own home back when he was… sixteen? The specifics were lost in the argument still bouncing around in his skull. He closed his eyes and focused on the beats in his throat, counting them until the bickering became more distant. When he opened them again, the Vaughans’ door was waiting for him. The faint sounds of a television told him they were still awake.

His uninjured hand hovered just in front of the door. He swallowed the familiar anxiety clouding his breath. He could make this simple. Break things down into smaller steps. Enter. Break the news. Leave the paper. Return to base. This didn’t have to be hard if he didn’t make it so. He knocked.

A few more moments of blissful silence, and the door was cracked. A freckled woman peered out at him through the sliver.

“Mrs. Vaughan,” he said. Her eyes lit up as she recognized his voice. She flung the door wide open, and there was the warm grin he’d been embraced with from the day he met her. Callie may have looked a bit older, but her smile had never changed.

“Eddie, sweetheart!” she trilled. They hadn’t seen each other since… Eddie had to rack his brain. Since he joined Nexus, at least.

“Oh, sweetie, what happened there?” Her hand brushed against his sling.

“Work,” he joked. It was mostly an attempt to calm his own nerves.

“You poor thing! Oh, come on in!” She pulled him into an all-too familiar hug, making note not to put pressure on his shoulder. Eddie would’ve loved to squeeze her back.

“Oh, I dunno--”

“Nonsense!” She guided him into the little gray apartment before releasing him. How could Eddie just turn around and walk out now? He took off his mask and beret, resting them against his chest. He looked around. Not much had changed since his last visit.

A gasp came from the couch. Another woman he recognized as Rose stood, collecting some disposables off the coffee table. 

“Is that our Ed?! If I had known you were coming over, I would have cleaned the place up a little!”

“Please, please, get comfy!” Callie ushered him over to the couch. He slowly took his place right in the corner. He huddled into himself, trying not to take up too much space. He scooched even farther into the armrest as Rose leaned over and gently tilted his chin.

Her loose curls bounced as she shook her head, tutting. “Look at you! Like something the cat dragged in. Have you been eating well? I’ll make you something.”

“No, ma’am, I’m alright, really,” Eddie protested. Rose wasn’t listening, already bustling around the little kitchen.

Callie plopped down beside him. There was still plenty of room between them, but Eddie still felt the urge to scoot away. It was wrong for him to be here.

“Sweetheart, we haven’t seen you in _ages_. There’s no way you’re getting out of this one easy.”

“Well, but, ma’am, I--”

“ _Eddie_.” she sang. That smile was still wide between her ears, shining in her eyes. It was going to kill him. “You know better than that.”

“I’m sorry, Callie, it’s just...” Eddie’s lips stayed parted, but no sound came through. He couldn’t find whatever he was wanting to say.

“It’s alright.”

He flinched at the gentle pressure on his arm. How was Callie’s hand so warm? The way she delicately ran her thumb over his jacket made his nerves just... _melt_. Not nearly enough to calm him down, but he still had to resist the urge to lean into the touch.

Rose returned with a sandwich on a plate. It was exactly how he would ask for them when he was much younger, right down to the type of jam. Regret swelled between his ribs. 

“So, what brings you all the way over here? Could this finally be the oh-so-rare _social call_ you’ve been saying you’d give us?” Callie teased as her wife settled in next to her.

“It’s…” His voice was already wobbling. 

_Why are you so weak?_

“It’s about Ronan,” he eventually muttered.

Rose brushed away the dark red hair from her furrowed eyebrows, and Callie’s face straightened. A fierce optimism still glimmered in her eyes. Expectation was emanating from them, suspended in the atmosphere by apprehension. Both of them looking at him like that… it was too much. His vision flicked down to his lap. He was met with the cold, blank visor staring him down. There was nothing there. That was by design, of course. Facelessness made the job easy. It was uniform. They were all the same, banded by their purpose. 

It would've been easy to cover the heat prickling at his cheeks and his eyes with the chilly metal. He probably shouldn’t have removed it in the first place. But now, here he was. Couldn’t even _pretend_ to look them in the eyes.

_Might be for the better_ , he told himself as he gagged on another attempt to speak. His stomach twisted around itself. He clenched his jaw shut, afraid he might ruin the carpet if he opened his mouth. There was an odd taste in the back of it, but not like bile, as he was expecting. A tiny sound escaped him as Callie gently rubbed his back. This was wrong. They weren’t the ones who were supposed to be comforting him. _Their son_ was dead. _He_ killed him.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?” she murmured.

Whatever words Eddie attempted to make only came out as a scratchy whimper. He had to tell them. He couldn’t fail another assignment. He tried to swallow, but the massive lump in his throat wouldn’t let him. His lungs screamed, even as he sucked in air. He was choking on his own pathetic bid to string sounds together. Each failure only tied his tongue tighter. What was _wrong_ with him? All he had to fucking say was “yes”, give the Vaughans some sort of answer. But here he was. Slouched over. Quaking. Clinging to his mask for dear life. It was the only thing he could make out in his blurred vision. Why did he take it off?

He couldn’t even move. He tried. He wanted to stand. He wanted to walk away. He wanted to do _something_ . _Anything_. His body ignored him. Instead, he was powerless as he was tenderly guided into a warm pair of arms. Why did he come inside?

“It’s okay,” hushed Callie.

Eddie finally felt something roll down his cheek. No, no, no, this wasn’t okay. He willed his finger toward his pocket. There was nothing here to stop him right now. No hidden cameras, no secret microphones. That tiny paper could give them some hint of hope that Ronan was going to be fine.

“ _I’m so sorry_ ,” he managed. They had no idea what he was really apologizing for. They couldn’t know. It was in everyone’s best interest.

They were never going to see their son again, and it was--

“This isn’t your fault, sweetheart.”

Eddie crumpled with the ugliest sound he’d ever made.

Rose was wrong. This wouldn’t have happened if he wasn’t a liar, a coward. He was fucking _weak_ . What right did he have, bawling into Callie’s shoulder like this? He only sobbed harder as her hand ran through his buzzcut. This was pathetic. _He_ was pathetic. All he could do was cling to them blindly while he succumbed to it all.

They must’ve been holding each other for days by time the teartracks had grown cold on Eddie’s face. Stray droplets burned as they crawled down to his chin. Only a bitter silence filled the apartment now. He felt like a part of himself was left behind as he leaned back from the Vaughans, still unable to meet their eyes.

“I have to go.” His voice was small and muddy and ridden with sniffles, but at least he had one, now

Rose planted a faint kiss against Eddie’s forehead. God, he wished he weren’t so numb.

“You know you’re always welcome here, sweetie.”

Eddie’s legs wobbled as he stood. It was like he was under anesthesia all over again. He let his fingertips rest on the couch arm while he waited for his strength to return to him. Truthfully, he was reluctant to leave. This was… home. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the feeling. He finally forced himself to look at the Vaughans. It was clear that they’d been crying, too. Callie was smiling up at him, but it was miserable, half-buried in the crook of Rose’s neck. The absent look in her wet eyes was torturous. It was just as painful to shuffle away from them.

His left hand located his pocket, the pointed paper stabbing at the damaged skin. His eyes tightened, pushing the last tears out. He was probably going to have to burn it.

The hot Nevada air weighed heavy on his skin as he closed the door behind him. He leaned his back against it, rubbing at his pulsating eyes. He almost thought about turning back around and asking the Vaughans if he could borrow their couch for the night, as if he were a teenager again. Fat chance he would ever pluck up the courage to face them ever again, though. It would be better to get back to base anyway. His shoulder wasn’t happy with him at all. 


End file.
